Aboard the Flying Dutchman
by samus18
Summary: A girl recounts her life aboard the Flying Dutchman after the day she was killed. Includes Maccus. :D
1. Part I

_Note_: I own absolutely nothing from Pirates of the Caribbean.  
This fic is completely meaningless and was written solely for the heck (and fun) of it.  
So…read or don't read. :-/

_Aboard the Flying Dutchman_

The decks needed swabbing and, naturally, I was the one called up to scrub with the rest. I hated doing it that day more than usual because Maccus had somehow been voted to go up and scrub with us deck-swabbers, rather than attend to some important duty that first mates ought to attend to. Maybe the captain didn't need him at the moment. If only he did. How long has it been now? I've long since lost track of time ever since the day I was killed with all of the other crew mates and passengers on our boat. I remember _that_ day, however. Oh, do I remember it. I'm sure that, if this world made any sense at all, I'd be recalling the bloodshed that took place on that fateful day; bring up mention of how the passengers were brutally slaughtered left and right. But that's not what took my breath away that day, no.

Don't get me wrong. What happened to us passengers was a _terrible_ thing. In fact, I recall being sick the first few moments of the brawl and had, thankfully, passed out. Afterwards, well, that was when the fun began. I woke up to find the crew of a ship called the _Flying Dutchman_ standing around me and a few other of the passengers on our boat. You can guess what happened next. The captain came to us (and what a captain he was!) and explained that we were now indebted to service aboard the _Flying Dutchman_, forever. He told about the years of use that were bound to us, but I'd rather not recall that little meeting, as much as it left a dead-pan impression in my mind ever since then…because that's when I first laid eyes upon _him_. Maccus, I mean. It took me fair while to find out his name. I eventually learned it by overhearing one of the other pirates speak it.

Maccus. Maccus. Maccus.  
Oh…to this day, I wonder if it wouldn't have been better to never have known his name. But I suppose it doesn't matter either way now, because I _do_ know it. Anyway, I knew his name, and it certainly didn't take a scholar to know that he was the captain's first mate.  
I'll admit it, I was completely mesmerized by this…creature…this shark-man. I couldn't take my eyes off him; he was so intriguing. Naturally, I could only take my time to observe him in the shadows, figuratively speaking, and behind the backs of the crewmen, seeing as if they caught me looking at their first mate all the time, well…I don't imagine any good could come from it.

I wanted to know who he was, if he had any family once upon a time, how many years he's been on the _Flying Dutchman_, whether he wanted to escape or not, and so on. And that's where I find myself today…scrubbing, cleaning, working, trying not to look at him…which, by the way, might sound easy but believe me, when you're as captivated by a person as much as I was captivated by Maccus, it's dead-hard not to just let your eyes quench their thirst.  
It's been such a long time, years I'm sure, and still I haven't been able to memorize every feature, save for a few. I know that his left eye is usually shut. I imagine it being because of some long-ago fight, doing battle with another ferocious pirate, swords flying…  
And _wow_, does he sport a set of scars. This guy's been around. If each of his scars held a story to be told, I'm sure I'd be listening for hours, and not minding one bit. I know he has another pair of eyes on the sides of his hammerhead. I wonder if he can see through them. Far be it for me to get around to _asking_ him, or anyone else for that matter, except maybe Tanger. Tanger's really not that bad…as far as pirates go. Maybe I'll ask him.  
"Auh!" I cut my hand on a stuck barnacle, the result of my daydreaming. _Criminy_. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed. They didn't…or if they did, they sure didn't show any signs of caring. Not that I expected them to. While still trying to make it look like I was working hard, I looked around for something to stop the bleeding. I spotted a cleaning rag in my bucket that, though I hadn't noticed it right away, wasn't there a moment ago. Not bothering to wonder where it came from, I snatched it and covered my injured hand. Those barnacles are mean.

X X X X X X

It began to rain later in the day. I don't know why, but for some reason I was afraid the captain might submerge the ship underwater because of the rain. Kind of a stupid excuse. Maybe I'm just becoming on edge. Maybe, as I had been fearing for so long, my very self was changing from the human I _had_ been into a terrible sea brute, alive only in myths and fantasies. For the moment everyone was idle and I didn't really care why. When you've been on the _Flying Dutchman_, you don't question breaks that are given to you without reason…even though I'm almost positive none of them _were_ given without reason.  
"Clouds are building up"  
The voice made me jump. I turned and saw Tanger standing next to me. Feeling a bit embarrassed, I shifted my foot and followed his gaze towards the east, where black clouds were billowing up into the sky. I nodded and unwillingly let my gaze fall onto Tanger's back, where three large fins were protruding like jagged teeth, blue and glistening…probably the only beautiful thing on this ship…besides Maccus's eyes. I haven't seen his eyes up close, but I get the feeling that if I did look, and for too long, I might get lost completely. Come to think of it, I don't even know if he opens his other eye.  
"How's the hand?"  
Tanger's voice snaps me back to cold reality. I look down at my cut hand, at the dark red splotch on the rag I've tied onto the minor wound.  
"Not bleeding so badly," I smiled, "you put the rag into my bucket."  
"Aye," he lowered his voice, "best not ta tell anyone though"  
I shook my head. "I won't tell."  
Tanger looked behind his shoulder. "If any of them fellas so much as had the notion that one of their crewmates has a soft spot, they'd be on him like…well, like barnacles on this accursed ship." He shook his head.

Of all the crewmen on board this ship, Tanger looked the most human. All you had to do was ignore the fins on his back and the gills and scales forming on his skin. I guessed it was because he was the newest member on board the ship, not counting myself and the passengers that were killed.  
To be honest, I never really pictured Tanger as "soft." Of course, he was never intentionally mean to people, but he seemed so alone and rugged and faraway. Now that I think about it, compared to the rest of the crew, I guess he might be considered soft. But honestly, what do you expect? He hasn't served aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ nearly half as long as the rest of the crew, and if he _did_, I bet he'd look like a full-blown swordfish. I don't think he'd be so nice either. It was then that I remembered the question I wanted to ask.  
"So," I said, trying to sound casual and uninterested, "that first mate, um…what was his name?"  
"First mate…you mean Maccus?"  
"Yes, that was his name. I was curious…does he see out of those eyes on the side of his head?" I suddenly felt incredibly stupid for asking him. I mean, why would Tanger know a thing like that?  
He shifted onto his elbows."Beats me, lass. Reckon he's the only one that _do_ know."  
Right.  
I nodded and faked a stretch. Once again, my eyes began roving around the ship, searching for those set of eyes, that face, those teeth…

Nothing.  
I was disappointed but didn't let it show. Then I was annoyed at myself for _being_ disappointed. Honestly, the very thought…letting myself down just because I didn't catch a glimpse of someone I'd have eternity to see, eternity to serve under, to share the same painful curse of living and breathing aboard the _Flying Dutchman_, if one could call it living.  
"What is it, lass?" Tanger's voice.  
"Huh?"  
"What were ye smilin' about?"  
I blinked, suddenly realizing the results of my daydreaming. "Oh…I was just remembering my mother, that's all." I lied. I felt a tinge of guilt, even though it was most definitely not Tanger's business what I was thinking. So, maybe he was the only person on board who treated me with kindness, but it was necessary to wear a mask sometimes. No one had to know what I conjured in that imagination of mine…what I secretly kept locked away in my heart…what I secretly longed for and couldn't have.  
_Couldn't have.  
_I hated myself for thinking it.  
"Ahh," Tanger nodded, "yer mother. Do ye miss her?"  
I looked down, hands on the railing, face bent towards the grey and green of the sea. "Yes," I said, relieved that, for the moment, my thoughts weren't focused on Maccus. Tanger clasped his scaly hands together. "At least ye have memories."  
I looked at him, studying those emerald eyes. "You don't remember your mother?"  
He shook his head, no. "Not my mother…not _any_ of my family."  
I tilted my head to the side. "Then how do you know you had one if you can't even remember them?"  
He rubbed his brow, as if searching for the answer inside his head. "Love…love is the word, lass. Their faces are but blurred images in my memory…but I remember their love for me, and for each other."  
My chest tightened; I felt bad for Tanger. The guy was killed, thrown onto this ship, forced into years of service and was beginning to look like a bloody fish. Was it so much to ask to keep one little memory? It wasn't fair. Feeling unsure, I patted his shoulder. I couldn't think of anything else to do to comfort him. The way I saw it, a pat was better than nothing. We both stood there for a while, immersed in our own thoughts. I heard a gull cry overhead and wondered what it would be like to be it instead of me…searching for food, flying, cawing, arrogant to the goings on of the world surrounding me.  
"I hope I don't forget my family," I said.  
He returned my pat and said, "Before long, ye won't even remember yer own name."

XXXXXX

I decided to spend the rest of my free time alone, or at least away from Tanger and his cheerful advice. A person could only take so much, yet I wondered how much longer I would _remain_ a person.  
It started raining a few minutes ago. I loved the sound it made against the wooden boards of the ship, which started rocking back and forth like a peaceful, if not demented, cradle. A few moments passed by in which I watched the rain seep in between cracks in the wood. The salty smell intensified, and I felt myself inhaling deeply, taking in the scent of the sea, searching…wanting something, I didn't know what.  
My ears perked up at the sudden outburst of voices coming from the higher deck. I looked up. The clouds turned a sickly shade of black and green, and the rain intensified. I guess it was rather convenient, at the moment, not to have been physically alive or I would have frozen to death. It was so strange…I could feel the rain, taste the salt in it, but I couldn't freeze myself to death. What Mother would do if she caught me sitting in the rain without a coat...  
The voices rose up again and this time it caught my interest.  
"Play it right or you'll be scrapin' barnacles off the bottom of the ship!"  
_Maccus_.

My heart skipped a beat. I stood up a little too fast, obviously, because a few of the pirates nearby were staring at me as if I were a pet dog who suddenly got the urge to chase its tail. I ignored them, feeling a little more self-conscious, and made my way up the stairs to the higher deck.  
As I expected, a fair-sized group of pirates were gathered around a select three, holding cups and tossing dice…Liar's Dice.

I refused to ever play such a game in all the time I've been on the ship, but that didn't mean I wouldn't watch those who _did_ play toss their sentences around like they did the dice. I always took double pleasure in watching Maccus participate in this game. Not because I liked to see him owe any amount of years to the _Flying Dutchman_ and its captain, but because I felt somehow that seeing him play gave me a better insight as to how his mind worked, how he thought things out. 'How well he lies,' a part of me would say. Truth be told, I didn't feel like it would matter much to Maccus if he won or lost. I mean, if I'm following things right, he's been indebted to the _Flying Dutchman_ longer than anyone else on board, next to the captain, of course. He was the first mate and, aside from his overall humanoid body, could easily pass for an ordinary shark. Even if there wasn't anything _ordinary_ about him. Maccus shifted one of the cups. I kept my eyes on his claws until the pirate next to him spoke. "Five…and a half." This was Hadras. The crowd buzzed and Maccus squinted his eye. I swallowed hard, wanting to come closer but afraid that I'd attract attention with my presence, afraid that they'd start teasing me, goading me to come and play even though they knew I didn't and that no amount of jeering could get me to play, not even an official challenge.  
"What'sa matter? Ya don't wanna play?"  
I found the source of the voice coming from my right. My stomach lurched as I recognized the beginnings of a teasing session. "I don't play," was all I managed to say.  
"Too scared?" came a voice behind me.  
I whirled around and was upset to find that I actually recognized this pirate. Palifico.  
My voice stuck in my throat, so I coughed. "I just don't."  
I'd never tell anyone this, but it unnerved me that, even after all these years, I was still nervous and uneasy when I was on the spotlight in the presence of more than one of these creepy pirates. I don't know why I was afraid; it's not like I had anything to loose, except maybe pride. I figured that the pirates had lost all sense of reputation along with their humanity…either that or they just developed really tough spines. I wonder how long it took them to recover from their first few years of fear aboard the _Flying Dutchman_…if they were teased or felt as alone and helpless as I did, as powerless…  
I was about to drop all conversation when something happened that I will never forgot, not even if I were to live as long as the Sea.  
"Name's Mae, isn't it?"  
I knew who it was before turning around. My spine suddenly felt icy cold. Had I still been human, my insides would have stopped working altogether. "Yes," I slowly replied, "yes, that's my name."  
Maccus…_curse_ him.  
He held out his hand and I nearly lost my breath.  
"You play?" He asked, jangling the dice in his hand, claws glinting.  
I swallowed and replied, "No," which came out rather shaky. He grinned then, flashing those sharp teeth of his. Those teeth…I could practically hear my heart racing, beating against my rib cage, wanting to burst out of my chest like a butterfly from a cocoon.  
_He knew my name.  
_"What's a few more years of service, eh?" This earned laughter from the other crewmen and I felt a strange feeling glide through my stomach. I had to get myself out of there before something happened that I might regret.  
"I don't play," I managed to say one last time before dashing out of the crowd and down the wet stairs, running and not caring which part of the ship I ended up on.  
The laughter of the pirates echoed behind me, but it was Maccus's laughter that chased me for an eternity of minutes afterward.

XXXXXX

"_Down_!"  
I heard the captain bellow. He was answered in turn by his crewmen. My stomach did a little flip-flop as I knew what was coming. The entire ship was being submerged underwater. I looked around for Tanger, but he was nowhere to be seen, so I hurriedly went about looking for a bit of rope to hang onto.  
I was just near the railing when I felt the briefest sensation of cool and wet on my skin, then some rope shoved into my hands. I looked to my left. It was Maccus.  
"You'll need to hang onto that, you first-timer," he hissed and walked off, shouting orders at several crewmen.  
I swallowed and clung to the rope as if my "life" depended on it, as if the rope were my salvation, my key to safety.  
I could hear voices shouting, orders being given, feet on the wood, but I dared not look up. Instead, I pressed my face onto my hands, and I could smell the sea.  
The ship began to shudder violently and, before I knew it, we were plunging ourselves beneath the ocean. The crash of the waves was almost deafening and my heart beat wildly inside my chest.  
_Almost…almost…almost…_

The noise was muffled as we sank underwater like a brick. I swear, I would never get used to this.  
I've come to understand that those aboard the Flying Dutchman have an immunity to water…or I suppose I should say, the ability to breath whether you've grown yourself a pair of gills or not. I didn't have any, but being underwater was almost the same as being on land…almost, but not quite.  
For one thing, you were always wet and had to get used to your hair and clothes floating around like some kind of ghost. Another major difference was that it was dark, all of the time, and I'm not talking about the kind of dark you get when you blow out a candle or something. When you're in the deep ocean, you get an eerie sense that you're enveloped in the kind of darkness that's as old as the world, the kind that's never seen light…like you've come face to face with darkness in its purest and most natural form. I'm thankful that the captain doesn't rest the ship on the ocean floor, because even when you're hundreds of feet underwater, there is some sense of light…one of them being the many eels and fish that glow like fireflies. It's spooky, but beautiful to behold.

The noise was muffled as we sank underwater like a brick. I swear, I would never get used to this.I've come to understand that those aboard the have an immunity to water…or I suppose I should say, the ability to breath whether you've grown yourself a pair of gills or not. I didn't have any, but being underwater was almost the same as being on land…, but not quite.For one thing, you were always wet and had to get used to your hair and clothes floating around like some kind of ghost. Another major difference was that it was dark, all of the time, and I'm not talking about the kind of dark you get when you blow out a candle or something. When you're in the deep ocean, you get an eerie sense that you're enveloped in the kind of darkness that's as old as the world, the kind that's never seen light…like you've come face to face with darkness in its purest and most natural form. I'm thankful that the captain doesn't rest the ship on the ocean floor, because even when you're hundreds of feet underwater, there is sense of light…one of them being the many eels and fish that glow like fireflies. It's spooky, but beautiful to behold.

The pirates went about their usual business. Most of them were hungry and went to catch whatever kind of food they could find. Myself, I never seemed to have an appetite after the ship went underwater. The others must have either gotten used to that experience or have overcome the squeamish feeling that accompanies "the plunge," as I like to call it.  
After a few seconds, the adrenaline wore off, and my mind wandered to the incident that happened what seemed hours ago. Maccus handing me the rope, the fire in his sea-born eyes, the way his skin felt against mine…  
I put my mouth to the spot where his hand brushed against mine. I tasted the salt of the sea, despite me already being underwater and practically being eaten alive by salt. I rubbed at the spot, trying to brush the feeling of _him_ off of me, but the feeling stuck. My chest felt heavy. I wanted to cry.  
I looked down at my hand and realized, by the small wisp of blood that trailed through the water, that it was bleeding, probably from gripping the rope too hard. Several shadows rose nearby, but I knew it was only the pirates who went out looking for fish.

This is strange to say, but they really looked graceful swimming through the ocean here and there. This struck me as somewhat ludicrous, that a ship captained by the Devil of the Sea could possibly hold beings that swam as beautifully as any dolphin. Perhaps it was because their humanoid bodies had succumbed to the miraculous changes granted to them by the Sea, so that they felt more real, more _natural_ moving about in the water. My heart went flying when I saw them move through it.  
I looked around to see if Maccus was out there somewhere, a simple telltale shadow of a hammerhead, but I saw nothing. For once, I wished I could grow a set of gills, and it was from this thought that came the first notion that what I felt for Maccus might have gone beyond mere interest.  
'No,' I thought to myself, 'it's just interest. Pure curiosity. Nothing more.' Which, of course, I knew was not entirely true before I even finished the thought.  
Though I still believed it was an innocent curiosity I had for the exotic shark-man, it wasn't until much later that I realized it was a curiosity that bordered on the obsessive. The _Flying Dutchman_ gave off a loud creak. I took in a deep breath and went looking about for something to do. At the moment, I would've even accepted the company of Tanger; anything to escape my thoughts that weren't only wrong, but preposterous as well. Nothing short of absurdity. I saw a faint glimmer in front of me. It was a fish. Then, quick as lightning, a hand snapped it right out from under my nose. I looked and saw Tanger right beside me.  
"No appetite, eh?" He asked through a mouthful of raw fish.  
"No," I said. 'Not for fish anyway.'  
He chewed and swallowed. "Captain wants us to take down the sails." He motioned toward the great billowing heaps of cloth.  
"Yeah…alright," I said.

Tying down sails wasn't particularly hard work, especially when you didn't need to climb to reach them. It wasn't one of my favorite chores (not that I had one) but I would prefer it any day to the wheel.  
It's what I called it, only because I didn't know the technical name for it. I've been called to help work the wheel only a few times before, probably because it required a really strong back to work it, and I certainly wasn't the most muscular person on board the ship. That thing was like a mean streak in itself. You'd have to push as fast and as hard as you could, and if you couldn't, your back met with one hell of a whip. I hated doing that job.  
So me and Tanger and a select few other got to tie down the tattered sails. Once, when I was up near the crow's nest, I thought I saw Maccus, which caused my heart to beat about ten times louder until I realized it was an ordinary hammerhead shark. I felt silly, but nevertheless, my eyes followed the creature wherever it went.  
"Here!" Tanger called and threw the rope to me. I climbed down and secured it with the help of a few others, and we moved on to the next sail. My hand was beginning to feel raw from pulling on all the rope. If only Tanger would work some magic and produce a rag from his pocket or something…  
"Attention there you!" One of the crewmen I recognized as Koleniko was shouting into one of the crewmen's ears. I paid little attention…very _un_like I did on the first day aboard the _Flying Dutchman_. "You there, take on this side," someone snapped at me and pointed to the other side of the sail. I ran to obey.  
When I got there, I came upon someone I had only seen twice before. I didn't know his name, but he looked almost as human as I did. He wore a dark hat and his hair hung wet and dark about his shoulders. Barnacles stuck to his skin, and I could just make out the form of a starfish sticking onto his face. I gulped once and decided to open my mouth.  
"Um, forgive me, sir…can I ask your name?"  
He looked at me, as if wondering if it were him I was talking to. Then he answered, "Bootstrap."  
I pulled on the rope. Trying to make friendly conversation, I said, "I've seen you around before, but I didn't know you looked so…human."  
He gave a humorless laugh. "Won't be much longer before _that_ changes." He gripped his side of the sail.  
"Yeah…" I said under my breath. "How much longer do you think it'll be before I look like a squid's cousin?"  
Lord Almighty, I don't know where _that_ came from. I tensed, afraid that I might've offended Bootstrap somehow, but all he said was:  
"It's different for all of us…the sea takes who she will, _when_ she will and _how_ she will."  
I began tying the rope. "How long have you been here?" I got the feeling that I was invading sensitive territory, so I lowered the frequency of my questions.  
He shook his head. "Does it matter?"  
I looked down at the tied rope. I wondered if Bootstrap chose not to tell me his real name, or whether he just forgot it…whether his name mattered or not.

XXXXXX

Nothing unusual or overly exciting has happened for days now. If it weren't for Tanger and Maccus, I'd probably die of boredom…or would, if I were anything even close to living. Besides our daily chores, I've been spending all of my free time talking to Tanger, thinking about Maccus and watching the sea creatures swim by.  
I had a thought, one day, that maybe I'd be able to escape living on this ship by swimming away and never coming back, but I knew better. A _thought_ was all it was; nothing more. Besides…even if, by some miracle from God, I _did_ escape and, heaven forbid, abandon my aquatic attire and continue life where I had left off, I'd live the rest of my life wondering where Maccus is, what's Maccus is thinking right now, is Maccus still on board the _Flying Dutchman_, did Maccus ever notice that I left? And so on.

I had an eternity ahead of me…plenty of time to try and understand this person, who he really was…but I wanted to know _now_…I didn't want it to take me an eternity to know him. I had serious doubts though. Here's how I see it: the _Flying Dutchman_ does something to your mind; it saps, if you will, all of the memories of being human that are yours, like a parasite slowly sucking away at your thoughts. Once already, I had to remind myself that I had a last name. Imagine forgetting something as simple as that.  
But honestly, I think it gets worse the longer you stay on board, and something very strong inside of me was telling me that Maccus has been on this ship too long.  
Too long for _what_?  
Too long to get to know him anymore, to expect an open mind of kindness and comfort. That must be why he looked so…inhuman. He was alive, yet he wasn't. I can only imagine how inhuman Davy Jones himself must be.  
Perhaps it was best if I satisfied my curiosity by simply observing him from afar, but never really getting close to the hammerhead first mate. It was unhealthy for me to be around him anyway.

XXXXXX

I'm losing myself more each day, I can feel the changes taking place in my mind, in my heart. This morning I found another barnacle wedged onto my skin. I didn't bother trying to pry it off. My clothes are always wet and they have become very ragged. My skin has become more pale; I'm wasting away before my very eyes and there's not a thing in the world I can do about it. I tried not to think about it too much. I knew I mustn't let my thoughts dwell on it or I might lose my mind completely; I would fall into that dark abyss and never come out again. Thankfully, I had everyday distractions to help me through each day. Tanger, for instance, was almost always open to conversation. I guess it was because I was the only person on the ship, along with a select few others, who was open to civilized conversation. The others that were killed alongside me on the boat mostly keep to themselves and, I know, want nothing to do with the crew whatsoever. I could relate.

Tanger and I would never really talk about anything significant, which suited me just fine. A lot of the time I'd be recalling to him what my life was like before the tragedy on the boat hit and ruined everything. Before, I didn't really know what direction my life was headed in anyway. I thought about becoming a maid for some rich noble who didn't deserve it, or helping out on fishing boats. I never wanted to get married because the thought of serving and being bound to another human being just didn't appeal to me…that, and I heartily doubted I'd be able to get myself a husband, seeing as I wasn't the most attractive person in the world.  
At least now I wouldn't have to worry about my future. It was all around me; an eternity of working, scrubbing, and scraping barnacles off a ship called the _Flying Dutchman_.

XXXXXX

By evening, I was so hungry that my stomach was practically burning a hole through my skin. Since there was nothing I could eat except for fish, I had to wait until I got time off from doing my duties so I could go and try to catch some.  
What an embarrassing experience that was. I couldn't swim as well as the others, of course, so I was a little rusty. God Almighty, I didn't know how they were fast enough to catch those bloody fish, even with their grown-in fins. I must have tried for a full hour before finally being able to catch one, and that's when it was snatched from my hands.  
It was Koleniko that took the fish from me. I was so stunned at first that I couldn't speak.  
"You give that back," I said, trying to sound threatening but succeeding only in sounding like a nerd who was trying to fend off the school bully.  
"Why don't you _take_ it back," he replied and popped the fish in his mouth. I was shocked and angry at the same time. He must have set off a bad trigger in me by doing this, because the next thing I knew I was lunging at him, trying to hit him with my fists. But he was quicker than me and caught me by the wrists, shoving me painfully against the deck of the ship.  
"Foolish decision, lassie. If you can't learn your place on this ship, then I suggest you keep yourself in _line_!"  
I wanted to reply, wanted to shoot back at him with a good, solid insult, but my throat seemed to lag behind my thoughts, either because I was surprised at what jut happened or because I was too afraid of Koleniko, afraid at what he might do if I had the nerve to insult him when I was clearly in no position to do so.  
"Not to worry," he said, raking a hand through my hair, which made my stomach lurch, "you can have what's left over. I hear the bones are mighty good to chew on." He laughed and left me alone on the deck of the ship.  
Lot of trouble over fish.

At least we didn't attract a huge gathering. The last thing I needed was to be the laughing stock of the entire ship, which I was more often than not. I especially didn't want Maccus seeing me as some kind of fool. It probably didn't matter. He most likely already looked upon me as a parasite. That's why I stayed out of his way. Truth be told, I found him captivating, but I also saw him as downright terrifying.  
If you know anything about sharks, you'll know that they're notorious for a great many things, one of them, quite properly, being their teeth; strong enough to snap a large plank of wood in half. Maccus's teeth may not be up to size, but I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he could bite my hand right off my wrist. Those teeth of his were jagged and sharp, and those scars…those eyes…  
Let's just say I pity the person who might ever have the misfortune of getting on Maccus's bad side…which, for all I know, might be his _only_ side.  
So there I was, empty-handed and hungry. I was too weary to try and catch another fish only to have it stolen again, so I resorted to eating the simplest kind of seaweed I could find and snatching up a crustacean here and there. Not exactly a meal fit for a king, but my stomach was on its knees, begging to be fed.

I had a rough-and-tumble sister who was always teasing me for my squeamish attitude when it came to creepy crawlies, and I'll tell you right now, I'd give anything to see the look on her face if she saw me in my present situation.  
"Who are you and what have you done with my sister?" She'd say.  
I was crunching the last bit of crab leg when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Tanger.  
"Just thought I'd congratulate ye…on yer first set of fins."  
I frowned, not catching on to what he was saying. He pointed to my left arm, and looking I saw three small, light red fins protruding from my skin. I dropped the empty crab shell which sunk slowly onto the deck.  
"Oh my…Lord…" I muttered, "Where did…where did _these_ come from?"  
Tanger laughed hollowly and held onto a line of rope. "The _Sea_, lass…the _Sea_."

XXXXXX

I don't make it a point to get into details as far as duties to the ship go, but during scraping today I got another barnacle stuck on my right arm. I tried peeling it off, but it obviously wanted to stay where it was. I decided not to let it distract me too much from my duties. After the scraping was done (and I'm quite happy to say that Maccus wasn't present) I decided to do a little exploring around the ship.  
I went about a few floors below deck by myself, when I came upon a room that looked like it had been unused for quite some time, even by this crew. Curiosity got the better of me, so I went in.  
The first thing I noticed, besides thewater feeling slightly colder, was that there was a rusty brig sitting in the far right corner of the room. Next to it was a large pile of chains and clasps, all of it rusting.  
A shiver ran down my spine. The place was dead-creepy, creepier than any other part of the ship. But, like the fool that I am, I went further in, like a mouse making its way to a mousetrap.  
A few miscellaneous items later, I caught site of a sodden book on one of the side tables in the room. I picked it up and read it, the words still surprisingly clear. It looked like some sort of log, or journal of some crewmen that lived on the ship, once upon a time.  
The words read:  
"…_though I doubt the captain will lash me for that. Yesterday's duties proved nigh unbearable for me, and I fear that I may not be able to last much longer. My back has grown sore, and…"_

The rest was blotted out by ink stains and time. I flipped the page.

"…_forever, and could actually feel it rushing into my very veins…"_ I took a step back, still reading.  
"…_it is as if my mind had been replaced by that of a pirate's. I am forfeiting myself to this hellish curse, and in a way, I have come to accept this."  
_Another step.  
"…_must depart; duty calls"  
I have returned with blood on my hands. My hand slipped on the helm, and gave the ship a minor jolt. How I cowered before the coxswain!"_

Involuntarily, my foot took another step back, and I felt something clamp onto my ankle. I panicked, thinking it was some sea creature that decided to put me on its menu, and jerked myself back. That's when I realized that I had accidentally stepped into one of the old, rusted shackles.  
I set the book back down on the table and lifted my foot yanking on the circular clasp. It wouldn't budge, so I yanked harder, figuring that it was old enough to break into pieces. Nothing.  
Fear began to grow, causing that universal panicky feeling you get just before you know something unexpected is going to happen, like performing a free-style act in front of thousands of people.  
I yanked again and again and again, each time seeming harder than the last. I grew more frustrated and gave up the yanking, this time trying to ease my ankle through the clasp. No good. I wondered how in the world I managed to get caught in this kind of trap. I knew then that there were still many uncanny mysteries about this ship, that it was accursed and unforgiving. I felt that, somehow, getting caught in the clasp was more than mere accident. Call my crazy.

My eyes began to sting, my chest felt tight, chains rattled wildly against the metal clamp. I was stuck. I loathe to admit it, but I started crying. How is it possible to cry underwater? I don't know…but I was. I began to think of worst-case scenarios, as is custom when fear takes over logic. I wondered what would happen if the pirates got called to their duties and I wasn't able to show up. What would happen if someone found me down here, and I was flogged for being so careless? I tried not to think, tried not to let the fear invade.  
"Oh…_damn_ it…" I whimpered through invisible tears. After another few minutes, when I was emotionally and physically exhausted from trying to undo the clamp, I heard footsteps echoing down the corridor. Barnacles and various other anemones that were stuck to the walls closed shut.  
I held my breath, waiting to see who it was, and was vastly relieved to find Tanger's face peeking behind the door. He must've heard the chains rattle.  
"Thank God you're here," I said, hands on the chain.  
I felt embarrassed at having him see me crying, but I was more glad to have him there.  
His face was contorted, confused. He walked over and looked down at my ankle.  
"What happened?"  
"I got it caught," I breathed, motioning to my ankle. Honestly, what did he _think_ happened? I wouldn't do something like this on _purpose_. "How in blue blazes did ye manage that?" He bent down and began fiddling with the clasp.  
"I don't know!" I snapped, growing annoyed at his obviously pointless questions, "Don't ask me how, it just happened. Try to get the bloody thing off me, will you?"  
He shook his head. "Eh, no good. Ye'll need a key."  
My shoulder slumped in an exasperated manner. "These chains are not exactly new. Do you expect the key to still _be_ here?"  
"I'm sure there's one here somewhere," he said, back turned toward me. He was looking around for a key, but I doubted he would find one.  
I pictured myself here, years from now, still tied to the chains. Tanger coming in, bringing me food. Crew members coming down to poke fun at me. I'd be stuck here forever.  
"Well…I'm beat…" he rubbed the back of his pale neck.  
I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what would be appropriate to say at the moment.  
Again came the familiar sound of footsteps. Long, echoing footsteps. Neither of us could guess who could possibly be approaching. I hoped it wasn't the captain.  
Then the tall, muscular figure entered.  
No…most definitely not the captain, unless he suddenly sprouted a hammerhead with two eyes at the end of each length. Maccus.  
My eyes widened slightly. I gulped. Maccus. It _had_ to be Maccus.  
"What's this here?" He asked, mouth contorted, teeth showing, eyes frowning. He stepped over to me and Tanger, observing the chains and clasp just as Tanger had done moments before.  
"Eh…the lass just got herself in an accident is all…" Tanger answered, looking somewhat sheepish.  
Maccus glanced at me, and I suddenly began to feel very self-conscious and ashamed. I so wanted to meet those eyes, if only to get closer than I've ever gotten to him before, but I didn't. I looked down, wanting to hide my face. Then I saw him bend down near the chain and, with his teeth, bit the hooked piece off and away from my ankle. Those jaws were mere inches away from mortally wounding my leg.  
He stood up and snarled at the both of us. "You're on duty now, and heaven help you if you decide to go messin' around again!" He pointed up the stairs. Both me and Tanger scurried past him, tail-between-legs. The ring of metal remained around my ankle.  
I was frightened, yet I was also elated…not to mention full-blown relieved at finally having been free from the clasp, and that spooky room. I couldn't believe those teeth, how strong they were, how they cut through the chain like they were an old piece of string.  
_What a pirate._  
My heart was practically throbbing in my chest. I felt like I was keeping so much excitement locked up inside of me that at any minute it could explode and I'd go shooting off to the surface, barnacles and all. I don't know why, but I wanted to scream, to shout, to put all of the emotions I've been feeling straight into my voice if only or a chance to let the world know what I was feeling.  
Which was what? What _was_ I feeling?  
I don't know…but I _felt_ it.

XXXXXX

As if I didn't have enough surprises, I found that everyone on board was calling me "Chainer" at the end of every order they gave me. I inquired this to Tanger and he explained that it was a nickname I had"earned" after my little incident with the chains and clasp. I wasn't really sure what to think of this.  
_Chainer_.  
I wonder where "Tanger" could have possibly come from. Or Palifico, or Koleniko. For all I knew, those were their real names. Oh well, let the pirates call me what they wanted. I didn't really care as long as I never forgot my _given_ name. I'm sure the nickname also sprung from the fact that, ever since my "escape" from that prison room, I haven't been able to release the metal clamp from my ankle. I wondered why they called me "Chainer" instead of "Clamp."

About a week later the ship was brought to the surface. I found out why very quickly; the _Flying Dutchman_ may reside underwater, but word spread around like wildfire. Apparently, there was another pirate ship nearby that the captain, obviously, recognized by a mere mile, so he sent…and it pains me to say this…a beast called the _kraken_. I had never heard of it before, and everyone was too busy (myself included) to answer any of my questions which, by the way, I really didn't bother asking. They were all answered when I saw those gargantuan green tentacles shoot up out of the ocean. I immediately fell sick nearly to my stomach, as I recognized the beast…the same one that I saw when our boat was attacked all those years ago. I should have known…the kraken. Even though I knew the creature would not come after the _Flying Dutchman_, I was scared out of my wits. The more illogical side of me wanted to run, even though there was no place _to_ run…but my body, at that moment, seemed completely separated from my mind.

The attack seemed to last for hours on end. I watched as the pirate ship crumbled to bits, hull breaking, masts falling. Even from my distance, I could hear the shrill cries of the sailors as the kraken picked them off, one by one, as if the beast were at a buffet. I kept my eyes on it the whole time, even though my heart couldn't bear it. When at last the noise and the crashing and the screaming ceased, I felt a hand on my shoulder, which nearly made me jump out of my skin.

"It gets easier to bear after the first time…" Tanger said.  
I managed to nod, not realizing how shallow my breathing had become. With a final pat, Tanger left, leaving me alone on the side of the ship. Alone, except for the thoughts whirling about in my head like a tornado.  
Just when I thought the scenario was over, the crewmen all started gathering around the captain. I didn't know why at first, but decided to hang around in the back of the crowd, wondering why everyone suddenly got so quiet.  
Captain Davy Jones took his pipe out and began smoking with slow, deliberate huffs. He seemed distant, almost melancholy, as he stared out to sea, at the shipwreck that, although the kraken had physically destroyed it, had happened by Davy Jones's will. He turned to Maccus who was nearby, awaiting his captain's orders.  
"Check for survivors," was all he said, before Maccus and several others slunk into the sea. I knew they were going to approach the ship, knew what was awaiting those that had survived…if there _were_ any survivors. In some way, I hoped there weren't any; no one deserved to have their lives pledged to the _Flying Dutchman_, not even a pirate. The rest of the crew waited in anticipation. I stood by the railing, away from the others and their almost-silent murmurs.  
Slowly, slowly, the remaining half of the pirate ship found her way down into the sea. It was what the ship would have wanted, were it a person, to die at the very place where it was built to live upon.  
I strained my eyes to try and see if I could spot any survivors of the shipwreck, but it was too far to see anything specific without a telescope. I saw absolutely no sign of Maccus or the others. Just knowing that they were under there, under the water somewhere and approaching the wrecked ship, was enough to cause me to burst into tears. But I dared not; I held my ground, but I couldn't prevent the watery film from spreading over my eyes. I wasn't even really sure why my emotions took a turn for the worse. Maybe it was for the survivors, maybe it was for Maccus, maybe both.  
Maybe it was because…despite my endless admiration for the hammerhead man, I knew he was bringing those survivors to their fate…their inescapable fate, and I was powerless to do anything about it. No amount of words spoken would change what was about to happen.  
I sniffed. Standing there at the railing, I reached my hand out to the floating piles of wood, all that remained of the sunken ship…I was reaching for the survivors…for Maccus…letting my imagination drink deep.  
I stood there and wondered…wondered if, somehow, Maccus had helped out in carrying my death sentence.

XXXXXX

Later on in the day, a thunderstorm had built up and settled over our…_the_ ship. I sat leaning against a wet wooden wall, with only my thoughts for company. The wetness of my abused dress clung to my skin, making everything seem colder than it probably was. Raindrops glided down my cheeks, down my hair and landed in soft patters onto my shoulders. Flashes of lightning illuminated the dark clouds overhead every now and then, accompanied by the rumbling of thunder.  
I was a little happy that no one from the crew took notice of me but, truth be told before the eyes of God, I was _lonely_. Lonely for what? Surely not for the company of the _pirates_. But what then? I looked around. I noticed a group of pirates hanging out near the helm of the ship. One of them I recognized as Hadras. All of them had a bottle in their hands, rum no doubt. Not so surprisingly, another group on the lower deck was playing Liar's Dice, which is where I guessed all of the random outbursts of voices was coming from. Tanger was nowhere in sight.

A loud clap of thunder sounded overhead making me jump, hands flying to my ears. When I opened my eyes, I saw Maccus standing at the railing, right in front of me. This caused a greater jolt to my system than the thunder did.  
He seemed to be looking for something, almost as if he were observing the ocean, or listening for sounds in the sky. His muscles were sleek and wet from the rain, his teeth clenched hard in thought.  
I briefly swept my eyes over the barnacles attached to his skin, surveyed the scars, the cuts. Laughter rang out from the other crewmen. I thought, 'Even _here_ there is laughter.' I stood up and approached Maccus. I can tell you…I don't know where the courage to do that came from.

I felt anxious with each step I took. When I came to his side, I didn't know what to do. I thought of saying something, thought of giving a small greeting, of starting up some small talk, _any_thing…but I was finding it slightly more difficult to breath. Every second that went by, I was closer to speaking to him, closer to uttering a few simple words, the breath always resting at the edge of my lips, but when I opened them, the words seemed to dissipate, to vanish like a candle in the wind.  
It turns out, even if I had thought of something to say, I wouldn't have been able to say it, seeing as Maccus gave me quite a surprise when _he_ spoke first.  
"Hurricane is on the way…" without looking at me, of course. I guess he _did_ acknowledge my presence…he didn't strike me as the type to talk to himself.  
I dared to step closer. "How can you tell"  
He pointed one of his claws to the water. "Sharks," he said, and looking I could see dozens of dark silhouettes of what could only be great whites and reef sharks…and hammerheads. "All heading for deeper water"  
That made sense. The silence between us grew, and my breathing suddenly seemed very loud. Maccus still had his eyes on the many sharks swimming about, and I wondered with all my heart what he was thinking…what he must have been feeling. I was afraid to move, as if doing so would break the moment between us, a moment I wished could last as long as our debts did. _Forever_.

I stared at Maccus. A bolt of lightning lashed out overhead, briefly illuminating Maccus's intimidating profile. Thunder sounded only seconds after.  
When I was little, I used to sit in a corner and cover my ears whenever a thunderstorm would hit. My sister would often tease me, and mother would just shake her head at me, saying that I was being silly for cowering in a corner on account of a "ruddy thunderstorm"  
Now, I was thankful for its distraction, however remote it might be. And still, I couldn't take my eyes off of Maccus. I watched the way his chest rose in and out, in and out…could feel the sea on him…I knew that his soul was no longer his own, that it rightfully belonged to the Sea, and he seemed to me in that moment like a cold statue, devoid of any imitation of life whatsoever. No lies.  
In my mind, I pictured what a curious object Maccus would appear as a statue to people who have never imagined such a being existing. The statue of the exquisite hammerhead man would attract attention from every single passerby that walked the street. People would point and whisper among themselves, envying the sheer genius of the sculptor, wondering who could have thought up such a thing so whimsical.  
I reached my hand out, wanting to lay it against his shoulder, to feel the coolness once again, but I panicked and let my arm fall to the side. He turned and fixed me with those glimmering eyes.  
"What are you staring at? Get to your duties!" He snarled. I snapped out of my reverie immediately and scurried a few steps away from him.  
'_Don't let this go_,' a part of me was saying, '_don't let this moment pass by.'_  
I stopped and turned around to face him.  
"Maccus," I breathed. He spun around to face me and I saw he slightest bit of puzzlement cross his face.  
"...I..."  
…_Didn't know what to say._ I had to think of something, and quick, before he became impatient and before I lost my nerve.  
"…You should tell the captain about the hurricane"  
_Criminy_. Talk about a pathetic save. He didn't respond to this. Instead, he started walking over to me, and I couldn't help but take several steps back. This might be the fear and the admiration speaking, but I must say that it is quite impossible not to shrink back when you see Maccus, tall Maccus, striding over towards you.  
He grabbed my by my hair, which caused me to flinch, and hissed, "Who told you you could call me by my name, wench?"  
"I…no one!" I gasped. "It's your name…so I called you by it!"  
He threw me down and ordered me to get back to work. I obeyed, too ashamed by…_some_thing…to rebel. Not that I would; I had given up on my spirit some time ago. I knew enough to follow orders given to me.

My head hurt from the powerful yank that Maccus gave my hair. I couldn't think why it had cut his fuse so short just to hear his name. Maybe lowly crew hands, such as myself, were not permitted to speak the names of the higher-ranking pirates, and were only allowed to address them as "Sir" or "Mister." Perhaps it was a rule that I had somehow overlooked…perhaps the pirates deliberately didn't tell me of this supposed rule on purpose and this was just another one of their jokes. Who knew? I wouldn't put it past them. I scrambled down the steps to the lower deck, nearly slipping on the slick stairway. At least down there I would be more secluded from all other eyes above deck. Right away, I began clearing shells and seaweed off of various crates of ammunition and such. It took some time for me to move the crates to the proper end of the room, but I managed with the help of three other pirates who had been ordered below deck as well.  
After that was done, we all headed back onto the deck as everyone began participating in raising the sails. We headed over. One of the pirates tossed me a line which I absently took and started pulling.  
'Maccus…why were you so upset?'  
I felt hurt, emotionally, that he had gone so far as to pull my hair and shove me to the floor, all for saying his _name_. I also felt upset for him. It disturbed me that such a conflict might be stirring inside him and he didn't have a friendly ear to listen to him. Oh, Maccus.  
I pulled harder…harder…  
He was such a mystery to me. I couldn't understand him, but I wanted to, I _wanted_ to. I _so_ wanted to. But this was the first mate of the _Flying Dutchman_ we were talking about. If I had any sense left in me, I would give up this fool's crusade in trying to put a finger on Maccus. The man wasn't meant to be understood. But why?

_Why_?

_Note_: First part done. I don't think I'm going to continue, unless I know where I want to go with it, but anyways…hope it was bearable.


	2. Part II

Note: I just want to thank everyone who has reviewed my story. It really made my day. Kudos to you all.

Just to say, in the first part of my story I got a few of the names mixed up. I referred to Palifico as the guy with the clamshell head, but _he _was actually Hadras. I was told off of one of the POTC sites that Palifico was the guy with the shell head, but apparently it was false information, so yeah.  
Anyway, here is the second part of the story.  
I _am _aware that the dialogue I chose to type (and write) this in is not of Old World material. I'm choosing to ignore that.  
And like always, suggestions and ideas are more than welcome. :)

_Aboard the Flying Dutchman_

_Part 2_

I found out something terrible today. After the crew finished performing their duties, me and Tanger sat around talking for a while about nothing in particular until I finally got around to asking him what he knew about Maccus. I was stepping on eggs, and I knew it, so I had to underplay the big interest I had in asking about him. This is how the conversation went.  
"Tanger?" I asked.  
"Yes?"  
"…Do you know who Maccus was?" I didn't know how to begin the questioning without seeming too persistent or desperate. I just didn't expect such a blunt inquiry coming from _me_.  
He shook his head and folded his hands together. "I know very little," he slowly replied. "The crewmen don't make it a point to remember their history before coming on board the Dutchman…as is custom…"  
I nodded patiently, but inside I felt the butterflies in my stomach were playing a game of tag. If Tanger did indeed know anything, _anything _at all about Maccus that I had not known before, I wanted him to spill it out; I didn't want to be patient.  
"But…" he continued, "word gets around, ye know? Stories spread on this ship like wildfire, particularly when the pirates have downed their fair share of rum," and here he waited. "I've heard things."  
"But what _kind _of things?" I pressed, forcing myself to keep my voice calm and less eager. If my mind were to be spoken, I would have said, 'What _kind _of things about Maccus? Tell me, tell me, don't keep me waiting!'  
But Tanger shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, like he was trying to decide whether to tell me or not. Finally, he spoke.  
"He had a brother. When he pledged himself to this ship, so I've heard, his brother was not a survivor, and therefore did not get to make the choice that Maccus did. Mind you, this was a long time ago, a _very _long time ago," he cleared his throat, giving me a moment to gather myself. "I haven't heard much else besides that…just what other crew members have spoken."  
My voice sounded small in my ears when I asked, "But…if the pirates don't remember their past, how did you know this happened?"  
He waved his hand like it didn't matter, but replied, "Could have been a rumor from long ago that no one has been able to clear their minds of. Who knows?"  
I didn't make any answer after that, and he didn't talk anymore, so that was how we stayed. In silence.  
That was how I liked it, because at the moment, I didn't have the heart to talk. The only thing that seemed to let me know that I wasn't fully and completely dead was the wave of emotions that seemed to be forever pulling me under its current.  
Right now I was glad, in a way, that we were submerged, because we were shrouded in darkness and that made it more difficult for Tanger to see my face, which I imagined probably looked discomforted in deep thought.  
Now, here is something I think about on and off, and all too often. Every time I asked Tanger about Maccus, I had to play my couldn't-care-less card when it came to the hammerhead man. But I knew Tanger was no dummy, and sometimes I couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before he guessed the truth hidden behind my questions. The very thought tied my stomach into a knot. I could never live it down if anyone ever discovered my secret fascination.  
I still refused to call it anything _beyond _that. I don't know why…perhaps I didn't trust myself enough, or perhaps I was afraid. Maybe…if I _did _acknowledge that my feelings towards Maccus were strong enough to be called, and I shudder, _love_…it would be tearing down the barrier I've built up for myself, like saying, 'Hey, you're free now, there's no need to hold back, let your heart take over!'  
But that didn't make sense either, because I knew that even if the Truth of all Truths confirmed I was indeed in love with Maccus (the thought still makes me hug myself in shame), there was no way I would ever have the courage to tell him. Ever.  
I performed my duties solemnly that evening. After scrubbing the upper and lower decks, I was told to go scrape out the cannons, which I had rarely ever done. Oh well…at least I was alone.  
I stepped on top of a small crate and peered inside the long weapon. Darkness, of course. I reached my hand inside and used the wash cloth to clear out bits of debris. I think that chore went a lot faster than it would had I been ignorant of the things Tanger told me about Maccus. I never thought about him having siblings…but then, it was hard to picture him with any kind of family. He seemed like a very stern, very alone kind of person. If the age-old rumors that Tanger told me were true, I imagine it must have affected Maccus very deeply to have his brother killed before there was any chance to save him. It made me feel foolish for thinking _I _had it hard; I mean, at least no one else in my family was with me when our boat was attacked. I wonder if Maccus had been a pirate _before _coming onto the _Dutchman_.  
More clearing of seaweed, empty crab shells, and a never-ending supply of barnacles. Geeze, it makes me wonder if they purposely didn't send me down here just so I'd be out of their way; it's not like a few bits of seaweed and shell are going to stop the cannons from working.  
I heard a shuffling noise coming from above, but excused it as another crewmen at work.  
That brought me back to thinking about Maccus. I haven't seen him much ever since he lost his temper with me…not that I've ever seen him on a regular basis. The captain's probably keeping him busy. I sighed and brushed my hair out of my face. Deciding to pause for a short break, I absently rubbed at the fins on my arm, still sometimes finding it hard to accept that they would be there forever. I was turning into a freak.  
Naturally, I could have let my thoughts stray beyond to who _knew _where, but at the moment I wanted nothing more than to finish my task and be free from my chores. I wanted to be alone and think.  
The shuffling noise sounded again, but this time it was closer. I tensed, looking around the room for any sign that one of the pirates might be trying to pull a simple prank on me…after all, to them I was the easiest target on board, loathe as I am to admit it. I thought it was Tanger, but a second later Koleniko appeared behind one of the cannons. A feeling of slight uneasiness came over me, remembering how he put me in my place the last time we met. I tried keeping a straight face.  
The mutilated pirate took his time walking over to the cannon I was cleaning and traced a finger across the side of it.  
"You missed a spot," he said with a sneer and a display of several small, sharp teeth.  
I sighed, frustrated with his persistency to make my chores harder, and picked up the rag. My pride had dwindled considerably since I became part of the ship, and a lot of the time I found myself obeying nearly every order that was given to me, captain or not. I guess you could say I was at the bottom of the food chain.  
I scrubbed hard at the cannon, trying to rub away the scum that had attached itself, but Koleniko pressed both hands on the side of it and pushed the thing away from me. I took a step back and frowned slightly, wondering what he could possibly be playing at.  
"You enjoy it, don't you?" He said in an accusatory tone, stepping closer.  
I answered with a look of slight puzzlement.  
"Maccus…" he continued and I felt my chest tighten, "…our first mate…don't think I haven't seen you eyeing him day in and day out, like an _eel _upon a scaly fish."  
I couldn't respond…couldn't move.  
"Oh yes, I've seen you," he said, "Do you think you can get close to him?" He asked, releasing his harsh tone for a moment and making the question sound like idle chit-chat. "To the hammerhead man…" closer he came, until he was right next to me.  
I felt like every limb in my body was trembling. How…_how _was it that Koleniko concluded these assumptions of his? It wasn't possible…I mean, if _he _noticed, how many others might have noticed as well?  
I wanted to respond, but I couldn't think of anything to say. Even if I _had_, my voice seemed completely lost to me.  
"_Well_…that explains your lagging in your duties," he continued, clearly enjoying the effect his badgering had on me. I so hated letting him win, especially when he was revealing my weak spot.  
"I _don't _lag in my duties," I said, finding my voice for a moment.  
He hissed and immediately lashed out with a ready-made retort. "Your eyes betray you, wench," he surprised me by grabbing my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. I tried desperately not to show my discomfort, not to show him that I was slowly being defeated…though either way it probably wouldn't have mattered to him, whether I was able to stand up to him or not.  
My hand closed around his coarse wrist, half-forcing him to let go. When he finally did, I rubbed my face where his hand had taken its grip. It seemed so unfair that these pirates were superior to me, both physically and as far as status went. I was tired of being pushed around just because I was the "new kid" on the ship.  
Suddenly Koleniko drew forth a jagged knife from his belt that I hadn't noticed before. I gulped.  
"Remember _this_," he pointed the knife dangerously close to my neck, "Your little secret is now in _my _hands. One false move and you'll wish you had gone down with the kraken."

I spent a long while thinking about Koleniko's threat, long after he left. But for the life of me, I couldn't understand what it was supposed to mean. What did he expect me to do wrong anyway? So far, all I knew was that he liked giving me a miserable time during my duties. But why the threat?  
It was strange how, even though I wasn't alive, I still cowered under threats given to me. Still, I knew I shouldn't be too worried. What I've learned since coming aboard the _Flying Dutchman _is that the captain really was the only one allowed to issue orders to kill…or whatever it was that was done to us undead.  
After a long day I found Tanger, tying a particularly sodden sailor's knot, and told him about what happened. He didn't seem overly concerned.  
"Koleniko enjoys intimidating," he said.  
"Probably because he needs to feel superior," I scoffed, sitting down next to him.  
"Ahh. Try not to let it get to ye. May be hard to believe, but ye get used to it after a while."  
"Like you did?"  
"Aye," he nodded, blue scales flashing even in the darkness of the ocean.  
I shook my head. "Sometimes I wish…that I would just be able to abandon my humanity altogether and really, _truly _become part of the ship. That way I wouldn't constantly have to be reminded of what I'm losing."  
He held up the rope he way tying so that I could see it. "Rope is simple enough to tie, once you know how. But when it's wet and tangled, so it'll remain that way forever," he set the rope down and looked at me, "Mae…don't feel so eager to give yerself up to the Sea. Once ye've changed into a thing that ye were never born to be, it cuts deeper than the skin. Believe me."  
"I do," I said, looking down and feeling rather meek.  
He patted my arm. "One day at a time, lass. One day at a time."

I spent the rest of the evening foraging for something to eat. I haven't gotten much better at it than last time, but I suppose that's because I've had so few opportunities to improve my skills. Mostly I nibbled on seaweed.  
I've begun to notice that I haven't been having the urges to eat as much as I used to. It took me only a second to guess why; clearly my transformation from human to a specter of the Sea wasn't slowing down; if anything, it was speeding up. Even though I have not grown thinner or taller, I had a gut feeling that the _real _change, the change inside of me, could outweigh any grotesque outward appearance I would ever take up.  
Hopefully by the time I no longer look so human, my mind will be so engrossed in the essence of the ship that I won't notice…maybe by the time I change nearly as much as Maccus did, I won't even care. _He _sure doesn't seem to. I mean, you don't catch the guy jumping or throwing a fit at the sight of his own reflection. He must be strong in his own way, to handle living on the _Flying Dutchman_…that or he was _made _to be strong.  
While I was finishing up the last bit of seaweed I cared to have, I overheard a little conversation between two crewmen, one of the voices I recognized as Palifico.  
"Hurricane is coming on soon," he said, "that means there's bound to be more captives to come on board."  
The other pirate laughed quietly…darkly. I didn't recognize his voice, but he said, "And then we can let the kraken have its way with 'em."  
My face twisted a bit at the mention of the kraken.  
"Aye. Always been that way. It's a wonder we've had any survivors at all," a pause, "Captain rounds up any soul lucky enough to have seen the kraken and lived, and then…the fools pledge themselves to this ship and are eventually consumed by the Sea."  
Wow…I never knew pirates had in-depth discussions with each other.  
"What about the girl?" The other asked, and I opened my ears, "_She _was never given the choice."  
"_Hah_. Neither was Tanger, or Penrod. You think the captain doesn't live up to his title? He's as unpredictable as the Sea; there's never any telling what card he'll play next."  
"But it's well-known that 'e can't force a soul into 'is service."  
"Eh…the captain's a cunning one, he is. Could shoot a bullet 'round a barrel if he wanted."  
"…Then 'ow long do those that _didn't _exactly swear 'emselves to the ship 'ave to stay on?"  
"Use your bloomin' head, will you? How long does _any_one have to stay on this ship? _Forever _I tell you, and there's no two ways about it. By the Sea, sometimes I wonder if there's naught but air in that head of yours."  
By this time, I was hugging my knees close. Hadras and the other pirate continued talking, but I decided to leave; I had heard enough.  
I didn't know where else to go, so I took up to wandering around the lower decks. Most of the crewmen were busy doing their own thing, whether it was drinking and yammering to one another or playing a heated round of Liar's Dice. I spent the majority of my free time quietly sitting in the shadows and observing the crewmen at their play. More often than not I'd stray to daydreaming, as was my usual habit.  
The ship was close enough to the surface so that faint patches of moonlight were dancing down on us here and there. Beautiful…in an eerie sort of way. It made one want to hide under the covers of their bed and _never _have to face the Sea…ever.  
After a while I got bored and found my way down the stairs, away from the pirates. One of the steps gave way while I went down, and I clutched frantically onto the railing. After my heartbeat slowed, I took extra care to watch where I stepped. This ship really _was _falling apart, like a child's toy that was left to grow old at the bottom of a bathing tub.  
At that moment I didn't know _how_, but maybe…maybe it was the glint of moonlight on metal that I saw out of the corner of my eye. I decided to investigate, not caring at the moment how my last expedition below deck turned out. As I came closer to the source of softly flashing light, I peered between two slabs of wood that made for a makeshift wall…and there was Maccus.  
I nearly drew in a sharp breath upon seeing him and hid myself well behind the slabs of rotting wood, but I kept my eye on him.  
Now I knew that the light I saw was coming from his ax. He was sharpening it, and I could tell by the intent look on his face that he took his weapons seriously, and with _pride_. I couldn't say I blamed him. I mean, with the skill and stature that he had, well…it's a lot to be thankful for, especially aboard this ship.  
Maccus drew a slick object (what must have been a piece of stone) across his ax, which made a fine ringing noise. Again and again he did this, and inspected his weapon closely. He hissed softly, apparently not satisfied, and continued scraping, his strong arm moving sharply back and forth while the other held his ax firmly against his knee.  
I sat there for a while, watching him work, marveling at the technique he used in working the weapon. I did my best to keep quiet, yet over and over again I told myself that _now _would be a good time to leave…but I stayed there.  
If I had been afraid of him before, it was nothing compared to how I felt after he threw me down onto that hard wood. Ouch.  
My hand went to the back of my head, at the spot where it was hit. I shuddered. Maccus was stronger than he looked, and that was saying something. He finally stopped sharpening his ax and set it down in a corner.  
I grabbed one of the poles that stuck out in front of me. I held on hard, my arm growing sore from the grip I had on the pole, as if I was pouring out all of my frustration into it. I gripped onto it until my hand was worn and scratched from the bits of barnacle stuck to it. My heart seemed to beat faster with every move Maccus made…I breathed in and out, ever so slowly. What was _wrong _with me? Was I this afraid of him? Or was it something that went past fear?  
I closed my eyes, telling myself over and over and over that I wouldn't cry. I _refused _to cry. When I opened them, Maccus was gone. He must have left up the other staircase. I bent my head down, feeling very relieved, but also very _alone_. I didn't know what to think…_hadn't _known for the longest time…but one thing I _have _been certain of is that it wasn't good for me to be around Maccus. It just wasn't.  
Closing my eyes once again, I stayed in that spot for a long time, trying to sort out my emotions into something that might make sense, but I failed. It scared me. I wished I had never seen Maccus, but I know…my heart was telling me otherwise. He was a taste of adventure in all that dreariness that came with the _Dutchman_.  
I wished I had someone to talk to who could tell me what it was I was feeling, why I felt so fearful and so awestruck at the same time.  
_Maccus_.  
I wish I knew him. For Heaven's sake…I didn't even know who he _was_…at least not beyond being the captain's first mate and that he gets angry when you say his name.  
_Maccus_.

"Mae…Mae…Mae! Wake up!"  
I opened my eyes and saw (or rather, felt) Tanger shaking my shoulder.  
"Ye fell asleep," he said, seeming a bit perplexed, I imagine because I had chosen such an awkward sleeping spot. I stood up a little too quick and grabbed onto one of the poles.  
"Did I miss anything?" I asked.  
"What?"  
"Duties…did I miss any duties?"  
He laughed, "No one on this ship would let ye miss any duties, lass."  
I shook my head, "No…of course not."  
"Ye look hungry. Let's go on deck and see what we can find."  
I must have slept for a long time, because the light of the ocean looked considerably brighter when I came back on deck. Apparently, no one had noticed I was missing, because they all treated me like a piece of flotsam floating aimlessly along the current. Not that I minded.  
Tanger and I climbed over the side of the ship and gently touched the sandy floor. It was a nice transition to the hard decks.  
"Here," he said and handed me a dull-colored plant, "it's a type of seaweed. It shouldn't be as strong in taste as the others.  
I nibbled on it while helping him forage for more food. Every so often, I'd see a small school of fish a few feet away from us. I knew I could never grow accustomed to walking and eating underwater, especially while watching the fish with their curious eyes. Not to say I didn't think it was beautiful, it _was_…but I couldn't stand it.  
When Tanger and I had gathered enough to eat we headed back to the ship, prepared for another days work. My job that way happened to be my "favorite"; scraping barnacles, only this time I was to clean the front of the ship near the helm, where I had never been near to before, even after all this time.  
As a way to pass the time, I listened to the many voices of the pirates giving orders and directions here and there. I must admit that on more than one occasion I've heard a whole collection of words being passed form one pirate to another that could have easily sent me into a fit of laughter. I recall one such "conversation" firing between Hadras and who I think was Clanker. The two were trying to shoo away an eel that had somehow found its way into one of the store rooms and couldn't find its way out.  
"Just wave your hand at it or something!" Hadras had said.  
"I ain't getting' near it, those bloody beats can sting!" Clanker retorted.  
"T'ain't gonna sting you!"  
"Then _you _get rid of it!"  
Hadras huffed and pushed Clanker out of the way, marching into the room. But within a few seconds both of them were yelping, scrambling to get out of the room and nearly jamming themselves in the doorway.  
I still find it amusing, even though it happened months ago. But today there was just orders being given, nothing more. At least my job was easy enough so that no one had to stand over me and scream in my ear. I'd lean up every now and then, rubbing at my arms that were sore from all the scrubbing. Sometimes I'd find another barnacle on my skin…other, thankfully less frequent times, I've found things a little more unexpected, like coral stuck in my hair, or a strange ridge appearing on my arm. It still creeped me out to no end, and I felt I would never become familiar with the changes my body was forced to go through. If mother could see me now…  
After several tiring hours of working, with shifts in between, I was able to relax a bit.  
Sometimes I thought the captain made the crewmen work for no significant reason…but thinking about it, it was probably because he didn't want to be a "loosey-goosey" captain, if there _was _such a thing. I mean, he _is _Davy Jones.  
I shied away from the rest of the crew and decided to spend my free time below decks that day, where fewer pirates dwelled. I didn't have much to do, and I wasn't in the mood to go chase after fish…exploring was certainly out of the question. I kind of wished Tanger and I could have one of our light conversations. Of course, at the moment I didn't have the spine to go look for him. The less attention drawn to me, the better. The only ones I saw while passing by below deck were crewmen I didn't know. They paid little attention to me, seemingly more interested in participating in quiet but furious discussion amongst themselves. I didn't catch the subject.  
The hallways of the ship spooked me, so I stayed within reach of the faint rays of light streaming in through holes and cracks, but the ship was anchored so deep and secluded that the light seemed to worry itself upon stretching its fingers down, down to the _Flying Dutchman_. It made me sad that I was able to see so little sunlight.  
Then I noticed a loose board above me, and got an idea. I found a few crates nearby and moved one of the lighter ones over and stepped up, reaching to move the little plank. Soft radiance glimmered across my face for a moment. Loose, but not enough to tear it out on my own. I disliked the thought of asking one of the pirates for help. I sat on the crate, feeling rather stumped but determined to ply that miserable piece of wood out of its place, even if it meant only the slightest bit of sunlight…my last cling to what was a bigger part of my human life than I ever could understand. I would definitely take it.  
I waited there, letting my disinclination slowly dissolve until I got the gall to go and ask someone to help me.  
_Help_.  
It seemed like such a foreign word on this ship. I have thought the word too many times to count since being on this ship, but I don't believe I have ever used it in regard to another crew member. Living on land, I never would have realized what a needing, human word it was.  
I wandered around the telltale corridors, whose walls were lined with all sorts of oddments. Seaweed, starfish, clams, oysters, and barnacles, barnacles, barnacles.  
I turned a corner and stopped several feet away from someone kneeling on the floor with their back against me. In the darkness, it was impossible to tell who it was.  
"Um…" I started, a bit too quietly. The murkiness was so thick, I was _sure _it had swallowed up the sound of my voice. "Excuse me, sir…could you help me-" My voice abandoned me when the figure turned around, revealing itself to be Koleniko.  
I stiffened.  
"Well what have we here?" He stood up. "Lost, are we?"  
"No," I answered.  
"Little dark to be exploring…isn't it?"  
"I wasn't exploring, I was just…looking for someone to help me," I began to turn away.  
"Or perhaps you were looking…for _Maccus_?"  
_That _stopped me. I faced him and replied, as firmly as my tone would allow, "Maccus…has absolutely _nothing _to do with me."  
"Liar."  
I spun away, upset and generally a little unnerved at Koleniko's remarks. I didn't get far.  
"Stop right there! You leave when I _tell _you to leave!"  
Trying to keep my racing heart and fast breathing at a steady pace, I answered involuntarily, "I will leave when I _feel _like leaving."  
Yikes. Not a smart thing to say, especially considering he outranked me. I immediately tensed, prepared for the blow he might deliver, mentally or physically.  
He walked over to me, and it was then that I noticed the makings of a scimitar-like weapon in his hand. That must have been what he was working on when I had approached him.  
He raised the weapon up to my chin. "Are you challenging my position?" He asked, fixing me with his more humanlike eye.  
I inhaled deeply, slowly. "No," I answered just above a whisper. At that point I was willing to say anything just to get out of there, but my answer didn't seem to satisfy him. He gave me one of his more…_unpleasant _glares and said:  
"It seems to me like you're forgetting your rightful place on this ship," he took a firm hold on my wrist, weapon steady, making me grimace. I was barely hanging onto the little scrap of dignity I had left. "Your insubordinate demeanor will one day bring on more trouble than you can handle, wench."  
I knew he wouldn't let go, so my other hand grabbed my arm, blindly trying to brush off the pain that seemed to seep into my blood. He pulled my wrist closer, but this time I tried breaking away. Suddenly we heard a chorus of footsteps coming down the hall. Tanger appeared behind the corner and paused momentarily upon seeing the awkward situation.  
"Let her go, Koleniko. She has duties to attend to," he said.  
Koleniko snarled and roughly let go of my wrist. I stepped back, and Koleniko left without a word, which I was heartily thankful for; I didn't need Tanger to know that I was on bad terms with one of the crewmen.  
Tanger approached me and gently took my hand in his, looking it over. "He didn't do anything serious…just gave it a hard squeeze."  
"Like a vice."  
"Why don't we go up on deck for a bit; it might do ye good to see some light."  
"Can I just sit down for a moment? I'm feeling kind of nauseous."  
He nodded. "'Course."  
I tiredly leaned my back against the wall, not caring about the various sea oddities that were poking into my skin. Tanger sat next to me.  
"What happened anyway?"  
My mouth twitched. "Nothing…I just ran into Koleniko in the hallway and he started badgering me, as usual…so I tried to leave, only he wouldn't _let _me, and…" I shrugged. Tanger made a soft noise in understanding.  
I shook my head. "It's not so much _that _that bothered me, it's just…see, before coming onto this ship, I lived a normal life, except I rarely ever had contact with people outside my family," I shifted me position, "it's just different on this ship. That's all. I don't know how to respond to anything."  
There was an awkward moment before Tanger replied, "With courage, lass. That's one thing that won't change easily aboard this ship."  
"I don't know about that," I said, recalling how terrified I was when the weapon was pointed at me. Yes…I still responded to threats, even in my lifeless body.  
"I do," Tanger replied. The sudden confidence in his voice seemed impeccable. "Ye've been on the Flying Dutchman for _this _long."  
"Well…I didn't have much choice."  
"Don't ye worry about yer future down here. When ye've changed from the person ye once knew to being a true member of this crew, I'll still be here."  
"Thanks," I answered, giving him a half-hearted smile. I hoped Tanger would never change…not physically, but I hoped that he would always be the same kind and somewhat understanding person I had known him to be.  
"Come on," he said, standing up, "we'd best get up on deck now. Maccus'll be delivering the captain's orders."  
I hurried up the stairs after him.

"Everybody at their stations! Come on, _move _it!" Maccus had the pirates scrambling over one another to obey, Tanger and myself included.  
We both ran to the opposite end of the ship and helped several other crewmen secure the sails. I didn't understand the sudden urgency, but I knew I would find out soon enough.  
Once that was done, I felt a tremendous shudder tag along through the ship, and I knew…we were going to the surface.  
When everything was set and secure, me and Tanger grabbed onto a tight loop to steady ourselves when the ship made its move.  
"Why is the captain moving the ship?" I asked Tanger, trying to make my voice cut above the noise of pirates shouting and the monstrous creaking of the ship.  
"Maybe there's a pirate ship nearby."  
That was all we said for a while, because the ship lifted itself and started rising towards the surface, forcefully shooting out jets of bubbles and foam. I couldn't see a thing through the thickness of it. I eventually opened my eyes to an overcast sky.  
Wow…another trip to the surface, another trip survived. It wasn't as overwhelming as last time, I noticed. I guess I was becoming used to it.  
Wind kicked up and brought the tattered old sails to life, spraying bits of saltwater down onto the many faces of the crew. I looked around at everyone, waiting to see what they would do next. Maccus walked over to the railing, and the pirates followed.  
Apparently, Tanger had been right in assuming that there was a pirate ship nearby. This one, however, was not in shambles on account of the kraken; it was well and in one piece. This puzzled me, and I found myself drawn to the railing as well. Some of the pirates were already prepared to waylay the lone ship.  
"Tanger!" I ran over to him, "Why isn't that ship torn apart?"  
He regarded me for a moment, then answered, looking back at the ship, "I can't tell…but it unsettles me. I've never seen a ship so empty, but…"  
"There's something else not quite right about it," I finished.  
Before Tanger could reply, one of the pirates halted beside us. "You! In the boat!" He jammed his finger in my direction and flicked his gaze towards the small boat that was being lowered into the water. My spine tingled.  
"I…"  
"_Now_!"  
I jumped and ran over to the railing, loading myself into the boat with a few other pirates. I didn't have the slightest clue what was going on, but I didn't like it.  
"Steady now!" Someone shouted.  
I folded my arms tensely, not recognizing anyone on the boat. What did they put me in the boat for? What on _earth _was it they expected of me? I looked up near the railing, wanting to see Tanger standing there, giving me some sign, _any _sign that things were going to be ok. It was false, it was empty…but I _needed _that confirmation. He wasn't there.  
Cripes, who was I fooling?  
The boat hit the water with a soft splash, and we paddled out to the isolated ship.  
Another gust of cold wind passed over us, and I shivered. It might have been my imagination, but the clouds seemed to practically boil over the lone ship the closer we got.  
When we arrived, the pirates took their weapons in hand, their knives in mouth, and climbed over the long side of the ship. One of them threw another line of rope down, and I climbed over with the rest. I was surprised at how normal the ship looked. Granted, I honestly didn't know what I was expecting to _see_, but I figured that…for all its strangeness…for all the clouds looming over it and the general feel of loneliness accompanying it, it would have looked darker, spookier.  
"Scour the ship for any survivors," was my orders, and like a good crew member of the Flying Dutchman, I obeyed. So that's what they wanted me for…to search for survivors. My insides coiled with every corner I had to battle, so to speak, and yes, it was indeed a challenge to wander the empty spaces of the ship, looking for people that would share the same ghastly fate as I had. _Terrible_.  
I knew I could stop. I knew I didn't _have _to carry out the orders given to me…but…I also knew that that wasn't entirely true and, in a way, I _did _have to obey. I was too afraid not to, too fearful of what would ever happen were I to pose as, in Koleniko's words, "insubordinate." I knew they couldn't kill me, not _again_…but I didn't trust to that fact in order to believe that any kind of punishment delivered on the Flying Dutchman would be anything short of torment.  
"Hello?" I called out. The walls seemed to cushion the volume of my voice. "Is anybody here?" No answer.  
For some reason this made me a little nervous. The ship slowly rocked from one side to the other. I set my hand against the wall to steady myself.  
I continued this search for the next few minutes until I felt a cold draft coming from one of the cabin rooms, and noticed that one of the doors was open. All the rest had been closed so naturally, I was curious about _this _one being open…curious, and a little afraid.  
"Hello? …Is anybody in here?"  
When no answer came, I gently pushed the door open further. It creaked loudly before slowing to a stop; I peeked inside.  
There, lying on the floor in the middle of the room was a man, face-flat on the floorboards. I drew in a sharp breath the second I saw him.  
"Sir?" I asked in a whimpering voice. It was the that I saw the pistol lying a ways from his hand. _Oh Lord…he had killed himself…!  
_I clamped my hand over my mouth, momentarily forgetting to breath. I had never seen a dead man before…I mean…I lived on a ship full of undead creatures (not exactly beings), but it wasn't like _this_…nothing like _this_. I should have known better than to go poking around in that room. I should have known that I was bound to find something I didn't want to find. I heard a soft hiss behind me and spun around at lightning speed. I received another little shock upon seeing Maccus standing there. I must have been so befuddled from the sight of the lifeless body that I hadn't heard him coming.  
Maccus paid no attention to me, walking right past and up to the dead man.  
"He's dead," he said, and delivered a kick to the corpse. I marveled at how easily, how _lightly _he took the situation. Pirate or not, a body was still a body!  
I swallowed. "What happened here…on this ship?"  
He looked at me, as if he didn't know I was in the room before and his mouth curled up in a snarl, displaying those wonderfully sharp teeth. "The pirates here abandoned ship," he grinned, "after they knew the kraken were after them."  
I blinked, keeping my gaze on his face, studying the many scars that lined his skin, observing the cruel touches of the Sea that would never be washed from his arms, his chest.  
Maccus moved his hand onto his ax. "Come on, get a move on! Our work here is done!"  
I ran out the door, knowing he would be behind me along those dark hallways. _He _wasn't afraid of them…wasn't afraid of seeing a dead person. But I was.  
I like to think that I understood, then, how different he was from myself. He seemed so…opposite of me, like sunset and sunrise. Different…but with an edge of unacknowledged and what seemed to be grudging togetherness. I broke free from the enclosure of the hallways and rushed up on deck. Maccus bolted past me and began rounding up the other pirates; some were already diving into the water heading back to the Flying Dutchman, not bothering to use the boat we took to get here.  
My legs carried me to the railing, and I looked over the edge, following the dark silhouettes of the pirates underwater. I hesitated a moment, looking back one last time at Maccus.  
Of course, he was snapping at the rest of the pirates, telling them to speed up, to quit lagging, to stop complaining. Lord, he never stops. It's amazing. And, watching him, I was struck with a sudden ironic realization that he _belonged _to himself. Indeed, without doubt and without question, it was Davy Jones who owned his soul, it was the Sea that practically consumed him alive. But in a way…Maccus belonged _only _to himself. And I would have him no other way.  
I forced myself to look away and, though my heart protested it, leaped overboard, dress fluttering, hair flying as I fell towards the big blue puddle...

Tanger met me minutes after I climbed back into the ship. Maccus went to the captain and reported all that had happened. If Davy Jones had any feeling whatsoever as to the pirates abandoning their own ship, he didn't show it.  
The smell of the Sea was overpowering on my skin and clothes. I knew it must be because we were above water, given that when you spend a long enough time under the ocean, you tend to blot out the strange smells that invade your nose. But it was one thing I never minded; the smell of the Sea. It was a smell that, granted, was one of salt…but I always felt that it had more than _salt _behind its scent. It was a smell of enormity, like the pureness of the planet overpowering your knowledge of how the world had always worked…nothing human.  
I told Tanger of what happened on the abandoned pirate ship, relaying about how relieved I was that it was nothing more than a simple inspection of the ship…simple, save for my discovery of the dead man.  
I'm convinced that my experience would have been worse if I had been a normal, living human…but since I wasn't, looking at the lifeless body was like looking at another version of what everyone on the _Flying Dutchman _was. Lifeless.  
"Is the captain going to submerge the ship, do you think?" I asked.  
"I doubt it…but don't let yer guard down."  
I sighed and slid down to the floor, feeling a little tired…mentally, that is. I noticed a crab crawling along the planks next to me, still slick from the wetness of the ocean. I gingerly picked up the small creature and deposited it back into the water.  
"I like being on the surface," I said, "but it frightens me a little. I see the sky, and feel the air…air that I used to _breath_, but it keeps reminding me of the past."  
"It's understandable," he blatantly replied.  
"But I don't _want _to understand it…I want to _forget _it!" I turned, clenching my fists and feeling a sudden wave of anger coming over me, "I'm _sick _of remembering; I'm _done _with it. I want to finally be able to let go of what used to be, Tanger. But I can't, I keep thinking about a normal life, and about my family, and then the dreams I have…" I stopped there, catching myself before I completely spilled my guts out to him.  
"Go on," he said.  
I shook my head. "It's nothing." I swallowed back the wail that seemed ready to burst free of my throat. My eyes began to sting, but I blinked back the tears. I hated crying in front of people; it made me feel vulnerable.  
Tanger stepped closer, seeming unsurprised at the change in my attitude. I wondered if he even had the slightest bit of emotion.  
"Let it out, Mae. Go on…ye don't have to feel ashamed around me," he waited, "Let yer misery pour out, or it'll haunt ye for as long as ye're on this ship."  
I huffed, "I don't want to."  
"I know, but ye've got to let yerself grieve. It's only natural."  
I pushed my hair out of my face, remaining silent. I wish I hadn't, because Tanger said:  
"Do yer dreams involve yer parents?"  
"…Yes," I said, "What else would they be about?"  
He shrugged. "Just wondering."  
I cleared my throat. I had no idea where this conversation could have led to, but…as always…my mouth was one step ahead of me. "I dream a lot about leaving this ship and going back to my family. Sometimes I dream that _everyone _on this ship turns human and they all go back to _their _families."  
He nods, folding his ashen hands together. "I myself can never seem to remember my dreams."  
"Well…sometimes I wish I could say the same for myself."  
"Do ye often have unpleasant dreams?"  
"Yes. _Too _often."  
"Of Maccus?"  
"…"  
"…Does _he _claim yer dreams?"  
A moment passes when I'm allowed a single breath to answer, "Why would you think that?"  
He shrugs sheepishly, guilt heavy on his shoulders. "It's the way ye look at him, lass," his voice is quiet, almost morose, "I know that look. It ain't given to passers-by."  
I sighed…though it was more like a sharp exertion of air that my lungs were screaming for. Actually, Maccus had always been a background item in only a _few _of my dreams. But was my supposed infatuation that obvious? I had always thought I did a good job of concealing my interest…but now both Koleniko and Tanger had seen through my failed façade. I felt terribly embarrassed and wanted nothing more than to sink to the very bottom of the ocean, away from all light. But I couldn't give up…not _now_.  
"I only look at him that way because he looks so _inhuman_." I say. He doesn't reply, and I live a few moments in bliss thinking that he truly _did _believe what I said.  
"Mae?"  
Here it comes. I cross my arms, refusing to answer.  
"Mae…listen to me," he comes to stand in front of me, but I don't meet his eyes, I felt too ashamed to do so. He continues, "Ye must do yerself a good favor and stay away from him. Love is not for those on the _Flying Dutchman_."  
"I never said it was," I bit back a little too quickly.  
"…It's only that…no good can come of it. Ye shouldn't get yerself drowned in matters that don't make the least bit of sense for ye to get drowned in."  
When I made no answer, he left.  
I was glad. I _hated _what he told me…I guess because I knew it was true. I _hated _that it was true, but, perhaps in a way I ought to be grateful.  
I _did _have a friend aboard this ship. It was Tanger, and he was nice enough to warn me not to go in over my head concerning Maccus.  
_Hah_, like that was even _possible_. These pirates were _not _human…not completely…and I had to remember that things like love and affection were nothing more than murmurs of the past tucked deep within the corners of their minds. It might as well have been non-existent. Granted, all pirates were cruel and dangerous, or so I've heard from the stories I've been told in the past…but they _were _still human and capable of love, I'm sure. _These _pirates though…  
I lied down on the wet planks, feeling very alone, incomplete…like an empty bottle. I didn't care that the captain could call any one of us to duty at any given moment; I just wanted time to myself…to think. I _had _needed to do a lot of contemplating ever since I set foot on this ship, had needed to sort things out, to replay the series of events that led to the boat being attacked…over and over again, as if doing so would somehow give me insight as to _why _it happened and why I was killed. I was convinced that the answers lied beyond just being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  
God…was it supposed to _happen_? How was it that I came to serving a ship cursed to damnation when, years ago, I was hugging my parents goodbye, ready to board a boat that would take me to live with an aunt?  
…That was where I was going. I remember now. I wanted to attend a school and get a better education than what my parents offered, but seeing as they couldn't afford to send me to school, I decided to go live with my aunt, who _could _afford to send me. I never saw much of her when I was little, but I remember her being a very kind person. Her and her husband managed a fishing port in a small town in Massachusetts. She had golden brown hair and gentle blue eyes. Her name was Caroline.  
It was the tiny tidbits of memory like this that I knew were slipping from my fingers like water. I _wanted _to hang onto them for as long as I could, but I knew that one day, I would forget my own name and know myself only as "Chainer." I felt like it was the spell of the _Dutchman _that had the most to do with my forgetting things. I held on with a weak but desperate grasp to my memories, but the ship wanted to take them away…didn't _want _me to remember I was ever human…that I had a life _before _the ship.

The next day, I came up on deck to find Tanger and Bootstrap conversing.  
"Another ship?" Tanger asked.  
"Yes," Bootstrap said, "heading this way too."  
I approached them.  
"Odd…how did the captain know to keep the ship surfaced?"  
Bootstrap shook his head and folded his hands on the railing. His tired eyes gazed out on the horizon. "Captain has many…_talents _up his sleeve."  
Tanger joined Bootstrap by the railing. His light shirt flapped in the wind, his brow furrowed slightly in thought. I came up beside him.  
"I heard something about a ship."  
He glanced at me, allowing a brief smile in greeting. "Yes. There's a ship heading our way, so Bill tells me."  
I nodded, taking slight note of the name _Bill_. "Pirate ship?"  
"Not sure about that."  
I hesitated to ask. "…Is the captain going to summon the…kraken?" It took me a moment to remember the name of the ethereal beast.  
"Most likely," Bootstrap answered.  
I forced a sigh and leaned over the railing. I instantly drew back upon seeing my reflection in a small puddle of water on the planks. All covered in barnacles, shells, bits of coral in my hair. Oh, _horrid_! And my skin looked so _different_, a lifeless hue.  
I heard Tanger whisper behind me, then he said. "Amazing…what the Sea can do to ye…isn't it?"  
I couldn't reply to that.  
Bootstrap came beside us and pointed out to Sea. "Look," he said. We followed his pointed finger all the way out to the edge of the sky, where a small, dark speck was sitting where there was none before. "The ship is already here," Bootstrap lowered his hand.  
The three of us gazed at the shape for a while, boiling over our own thoughts and fears. Pirate ship or not, we knew what the captain intended to do to the vessel. I shielded my eyes from the sun.  
"Don't they spot us?" I asked. "Surely their captain or their lookout has seen us by now."  
"I don't know," Tanger said. He walked up to the higher deck, me and Bootstrap following.  
"It's gaining…and fast," Bootstrap said and took a quick look around the ship. I imagined he was looking to see if any of the other pirates had noticed our unlucky guest yet.  
I began to feel anxious. Tanger and Bootstrap headed down the stairs, urging me with them, explaining that it would be best not to attract attention to the ship. I thought this might get us all in trouble, for wasn't it custom to report anything unusual to the captain? I chose not to mention this though.  
"I must get back to duties," he told Tanger with one last solemn look to the sky. I knew he must have known that he would be called back on deck, and all too soon. The dark form of his back disappeared into the shadows of the lower decks. Tanger stepped away from me and held on to the railing. I blinked, wondering what he must have be thinking at the moment. He didn't move.  
"If by now, Mae, ye're not bracing yerself for what's going to happen…" he seemed unable to finish the sentence. I tilted my head to the side, not having the faintest idea what he was trying to imply.  
"Tanger?" I went to stand next to him.  
"That was a military ship we saw," he said, "I could tell by the colors."  
"Colors…of the flag?"  
"Yes. I couldn't quite see the design, but we're in for a rough night if they decide to attack."  
"A rough night? What do you mean?"  
"Well, all sorts of things could go wrong. If the kraken doesn't finish them off, the captain _will_, and that's if they choose _not _to attack."  
I swallowed. "And if they do?"  
"Then _we _bring the cannons out."  
I stared at him for a moment, trying to find a trace of regret, of uneasiness in his face, but there was none. The more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that his attitude wasn't very different from mine. Not very. I mean, yes, we might be finding ourselves in a tight situation pretty soon, but…over the years, I had come to realize that there were worse things to happen. _Much _worse things.  
"I'm going up on deck," he said and left without another word. His footsteps sounded so loud, though it was probably for the lack of any other noise.  
"You do that…" I said under my breath, and departed.

As it turns out, things really did go from bad to worse. The ship that was approaching us halted a fair distance away from the _Flying Dutchman_, I imagine observing it. I could picture what a nightmarish thing our ship must have looked like to them, and I was nearly itching to know what was simmering amongst the people there, what they were saying or what they must have been thinking.  
Probably, '_It's the Devil's ship!' _or '_A ghost vessel, it has come to haunt us!'  
_For the moment, our own crew was standing idle, wanting to take some kind of action but not daring to without the captain's consent.  
Bootstrap and Tanger came to witness what would happen, as was inevitable for them.  
The 'calm before the storm' didn't last long, but what _really _took me by surprise was when Davy Jones announced to fire upon the ship.  
"Bring out the cannons!" He bellowed.  
I watched apprehensively as the three long tubes projected from the walls of the _Dutchman_, stone faces leering, hungry for a long-awaited target.  
I don't know what caused the sudden sprint in me, but I charged below deck just as the cannons blasted, and _then _I knew why. The noise would have awakened a hibernating bear! Good God, it was loud. I don't know…it seemed like, ever since the day I came to serve on this ship, my actions have all been based on fear.  
"Fire!" I heard someone shout; probably the captain. Again and Again the cannons fired, and I heard an explosion which I guessed was the other ship splintering to bits. Sometimes they would strike a serious blow to _our _ship. I wondered what would happen if the _Flying Dutchman_ was ever outdone.  
This sickly exchange went on for a long while, until the blows subsided and I finally dared to raise my head. Fluffy cumulous clouds drifted slowly against the soft blue sky, oblivious to the carnage that had taken place on the world below. Shouts sounded out overhead and I cautiously walked up the stairs.  
Unsurprisingly, the military ship was in ruins. Some parts of the ship even caught fire.  
I scanned the wreckage, following the men that were darting here and there like ants trying to save themselves from a flood. My heart went out to them for the futility of their efforts, but at that moment I spotted something worse. A girl, surely no older than myself, was huddling in one of the corners. I didn't need to see her face to know she was terrified, though I did wonder what someone like her was doing on a military ship. Even though we knew nothing about each other, even though I had never seen her before in all my life, I felt the sheer terror flowing from her limbs like a tidal wave, engulfing me in all its unpleasantness. I _know _that kind of fear…panicky, enshrouding…it could literally kill you for all the power it held over your conscious state of emotions.  
All other thoughts brushed aside for the moment, I walked to the railing and leaned over, trying to get a better view. But the next thing I knew, the pirates were diving overboard, heading for the ship.  
'No…'  
It would be so easy, so _smart _to have just left the scene and spare my morality the pain of having to witness what would come next, but life (or what could almost pass for life) has a funny way of making sure your unanticipated needs are fulfilled. Some part of my unconscious must have _willed _me to stay put.  
I couldn't breath, couldn't move, couldn't shout. I knew what the pirates were doing, I _knew _what was going to happen.  
"Please, no…" I gasped, starting to feel a bit panicky.  
Surely they couldn't…_couldn't _kill that helpless girl! My mind grew numb and tears began to blur my vision. I felt I was going to be sick as more pirates made their way to the ship.  
Before my logic had any say in the matter, I ran towards the group of crewmen that were leaving the _Dutchman_. Of course…I don't know what I would have done, or _could _have done. My heart seemed to have taken over in those moments, and all I could focus on was somehow _stopping _the pirates. But I never reached them.  
Several crewmen nearby caught up to me, one of I saw was Koleniko, and grabbed my arms. I felt powerless.  
But I continued to fight, thrashing this way and that, all the while shouting and begging for them to leave the people on the other ship alone. I _knew _they would never listen, but I pleaded anyway.  
It took little effort for the pirates to drag me away, but the next thing I felt was a heavy blow to the back of my head. My vision grew dark, and I was vaguely aware of someone's hand on my shoulder, gently lowering me to the ground.  
_Powerless_.

Do you ever notice how, when you've been asleep for a long period of time, your body reacts instantly and you suddenly find yourself launching into motion, feeling like you've missed the happenings of the day? That's more or less the sensation I had when I awoke…only I was being accompanied by a splitting headache.  
The first thing I noticed was that the room I was in was graced by the bright red brilliance of sunset. I must have been hit pretty hard to have been out for this long. Then it all came flowing back to me…trying to stop the pirates, the other shipwreck, the girl…and I was knocked out, but by _whom_?  
I felt a little dizzy. I lied back down and closed my eyes. The steady rocking of the ship lulled me into another world of slumber.  
Later on when I woke up once again, it was night. I forced myself to my elbows and looked around.  
Had I noticed what I now saw beforehand, I might not have fallen asleep as quickly; I was in a cell. Yes, a cell. I stood up quickly (nearly stumbling by doing so) and walked to the bars, giving them a push, but the door didn't move open. _Definitely _a cell.  
'Why did they put me _here_?' I stepped back until I touched the wall and slid down to the ground.  
Up on deck, I could hear the pirates talking and (occasionally) laughing. The strike given to the back of my head must have flurried my good sense, because hearing them laughing up _there _while I was down _here _made me jealous. Sure, they were a mean bunch of creatures, but…being down here in a _brig_? I'd even prefer working the Wheel to this…well, maybe.  
I spent the next few minutes sulking and feeling rather lonely. When I had enough of _that_, I chewed over the reason as to _why _I was being locked up. I _had _created a scene up on deck, but surely that was no reason to put a person in _jail…_it's not as of I were an immediate threat to anyone.  
More outbursts of laughter, and soon the clinking of bottles. Huh…well, what was a pirates part without rum? I myself would never touch the stuff. At least no one on board _had _to drink to live.  
I nearly jumped out of my skin when the gate to the cell creaked open. Strange, I didn't _notice _anyone coming. I swear, this ship is creepier than it looks, if that's even possible.  
Koleniko stepped in and flung a dried piece of bread towards me. I picked it up. Since when did we have _bread _on this ship? …Of course…it must have come from the ship that we attacked. My mouth parted, and I let the bread fall from my hands. It may have seemed weak-hearted, but how could I eat it knowing that it came from a massacred ship?  
Koleniko stepped back out and shut the gate. "Just can't accept your good fortune, can you?"  
I chose to ignore that and took a deep breath.  
One long hour later, Tanger came down for a little visit, and I was able to bombard him with questions.  
"The captain ordered ye to be detained in here as punishment."  
"Punishment?" I repeated, "For how long?"  
"I don't know."  
I blinked, waiting for him to say more. It was awfully nice of him to come down here and clear things up a bit, but I still didn't feel much better. Maybe it was _worse _knowing the truth of things. For all I knew, I could be down here for days, and all because I let my impulses take over earlier up on deck.  
"Where's Maccus?" My demeanor nearly took on a defensive stance, until I reminded myself that there was no longer any need to conceal things from Tanger.  
It was his turn to blink. "The captain called him away earlier. I don't know what for."  
I nodded and closed my hands around the cold bars, almost urgently. "What happened to the military ship?"  
He didn't answer straight away. "No survivors."  
My gaze fell to the floor. "Why not?" I breathed. My chest suddenly felt very heavy, but I needed to know or I would spend the better portion of the week wondering. I hear him inhale slowly, and he said:  
"They put up a rather good fight. Didn't even give the captain a chance to offer them a place aboard the _Flying Dutchman_. The were all killed."  
I looked up. "_All _of them?"  
"Yes…" there was a trace of puzzlement in his voice. He must not have known about the girl I saw. It was strange but, hours ago, I had hoped beyond hope that she would have somehow survived the awful skirmish…now…I was, in a way, disappointed that she wasn't to come on board. I was lonely, and having someone to talk to who could share the pain I've been holding for so long was gone. Tanger always provided a listening ear, but he's been on the ship far much longer than I have. Not to mention I was the only female _aboard _the ship; I felt so out of place, like a bee that had accidentally wandered into a wasps hive and couldn't find its way out.  
But then…there was Maccus. _Oh _my.  
When it came to him, I would be perfectly content to spend the rest of my 'life' just sitting by myself and thinking, contemplating, pondering, wondering, musing, dreaming…it was so much easier than getting to know him as he was, for _what _he really was…but no, that could never happen. There will always be duties to perform, always orders to be given, and Maccus would be the one to deliver them, and always I will obey, like a good crew member of the _Flying Dutchman_. Scrubbing, scraping, cowering, submitting…all under his scrutinizing gaze. Always.


	3. Part III

Note: Greetings to everyone again. XD  
As you can see, I finally have part three to my story up and ready to read. As always, comments, ideas, and suggestions are more than welcome. :)  
I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I tried to include a little more interaction between Maccus and Mae (aka Chainer.)  
Enjoy (I hope)!

Aboard the Flying Dutchman

Part 3

I slept all through the merry-making and boisterous laughter of the pirates. It was morning when I awoke, and Tanger came down and delivered me something to eat and told me I was to be let out the next day. I was grateful, but astounded at the same time. I felt it was completely unnecessary for me to remain in here any longer, but obviously no one really cared how I felt. I decided I'd just have to suck it up. Tanger left in a hurry, having his duties to attend to. Now _there's_ a thing…if you think it was a treat to be able to sit around all day without having to perform any duties, you might want to think again. Being in the cell wasn't so bad for the first _half-hour_…but after that you got the impression of feeling rather…claustrophobic, whether you had that problem or not.  
Anyway, those thoughts set aside, I had the little fortune of various crew members come down every once in a while to give (or toss) me bits of something to eat. It wasn't much to ask for, but they _did_ at least provide me with a distraction from my loneliness.  
At one point, Maccus came down and thrust a piece of bread through the bars, which I humbly accepted. My hand brushed against his, just as it had all those months ago. It was rough...but sleek. If anything, I knew that his claws could cause almost as much damage as his teeth. I allowed myself a small smile and sat down, gripping the piece of bread until it crumbled beneath my fingers. I chewed on a small bit and found that I couldn't sit still, so I walked back over to the bars.  
I retraced his face over and over again, trying to capture every detail that I could. His eyes were hard…even the one that could never open again, fusing with the side of his face, bore into you with all its nothingness. So cold…so _hard_. I could feel the hostility in his hand when it touched mine, could sense the darkness. It was amazing. And his claws…those claws, the teeth, the eyes, his arms…  
I mentally slapped myself to snap out of those thoughts. Like Tanger said, nothing good could come of them. I spent the rest of the day in heavy solitude.

As Tanger insisted, I was let out the next day. I was, of course, happy to be set free, but it was a little embarrassing showing my face after being locked up. I felt sort of like a criminal on death row who was suddenly released from her sentence and allowed to walk the streets. I might as well have been wearing a cape and a golden crown for all the attention I was receiving. During my duties, I inwardly cringed whenever an order or an unfriendly glare was directed towards me. Tanger, as always, remained a true friend, but the other pirates only seemed to use the fact that I got in trouble as a means to further exercise their taunting. Maccus, however, seemed indifferent to my situation; a few of the other pirates kept a melancholy attitude as well. It was probably more of the newer crew members that took my arrest as the highlight of the afternoon; more experienced pirates were obviously used to things like this happening. By dusk, we were underwater again since there were no more victims to wait for. I worked harder than usual that evening, though it wasn't necessarily required. I figured my chores would be double what they were anyway on account of my disobedience. I spared Maccus the opportunity to tell me so…not that I would have minded much if he did… As it turns out, there wasn't much work to be done despite my willingness to do so. The pirates seemed happy to be relieved of any more chores, so they all headed to the center of the ship (where there was most room) to play a few games of Liar's Dice. Maccus was among them, facing off against Hadras and who I think was…Wheelback. I stayed to watch for a few minutes. As usual, the players exchanged their share of losses and winnings, or what came close to winnings. I followed their actions closely, my face, I imagined, grey and distant. The words being passed between the three of them filtered into my ears only as vague smudges, the meaning having been lost long ago. Most of all, I kept my gaze on Maccus. It became painfully unbearable, so I chose to walk away, letting my footsteps take me where they would. Finding my way to the back of the ship, I set myself down and leaned back against soppy wooden boards. I examined my arm, now nearly covered in barnacles, and delicately traced my hand across every one of them. There were a few mussels, an occasional growth of coral, even a starfish suctioning itself onto my skin. When my fingers seemed satisfied with the familiarities on my arm, they moved to the small fins. I gently tugged on them, giving myself an assurance that they were part of me. The faint red blended into the pale hue of my skin. "Oh, Tanger…" I said quietly to myself, not entirely sure why. I looked up, eyes not meeting sky but murky dimness. I looked back down; for some reason looking towards the surface made me feel uneasy…maybe it was the darkness, the _heavy_ darkness. A small school of fish passed by, and were it not for the faint shimmering of their scales I probably wouldn't have noticed them.  
A somewhat muffled array of voices sounded. I knew Maccus was over there somewhere playing the game. I pictured his claw-like hands closing around the dice, his teeth displayed in response to the anticipation.  
'God…'  
Laying my head in my hands, I closed my eyes and thought for a long while. What else was there to say? I was confused…about everything, really. I kept trying to make sense of my feelings for Maccus. If anything, I hung onto the thought of him in my mind. When I wasn't performing duties, I was always either trying to avoid him or get closer to him... close, in anything but a literal sense. I hope, every time, that maybe, just maybe next time I could get a bit closer, if just a mere breadth of an inch, maybe enough to touch his arm…softly, so softly.  
But I'm too afraid. I was always too afraid. Because Maccus was generally an intimidating creature, or because of the thoughts that were tucked away inside me; I might have been fearful that my very presence around him spoke of the things I kept secret. Ludicrous, of course.  
I looked up in that instant and saw Hadras and Clanker approaching. I kept still, hoping that they'd simply ignore me and pass by, but they didn't.  
"Chainer!" Hadras called, "Come and play a round of Liar's Dice!"  
"No thanks," I said.  
"Come on, you can't get off playing for _this_ long," Clanker said, and motioned toward where nearly the rest of the crew was.  
"Some other time," I responded, giving him a reassuring smile.  
Hadras waved the bottle he was holding toward me. "You're no fun!" He turned to Clanker, "Let's go bother Tanger into playing a round."  
Clanker followed Hadras down the steps, and I breathed a short sigh of relief. Hopefully their clamor didn't attract any attention.  
I stood up to ease the cramped muscles in my legs, but it turns out my solitude didn't last long.  
"So," came a voice behind me, and my hair stood on end. "Why aren't you down there playing with the rest of the crew?" Koleniko asked.  
I shrugged and, with an apparent lack of confidence in my voice, "I don't feel like it."  
He stepped closer. "Don't tell me you've never played…?"  
I considered lying, but that would have been rather useless, so I told him the truth. His reaction wasn't one I expected. Instead of lingering on the subject, he shook his head and looked down. I couldn't tell whether it was a mock gesture or not.  
"It's out of my element," I added, for some reason.  
He walked over to the railing and randomly chipped off a barnacle. I leaned against the same railing a fair distance away, and absently started counting the barnacles and anemones. I felt no sense of uneasiness at the moment, not even with Koleniko there. Rather, a certain aura of tranquility swept over me like a blanket.  
"Your element is _here_ now," he said.  
I imitated his actions by plying off a barnacle from the wood. When I didn't respond, he continued:  
"It's going to be a long servitude for you if you don't start accepting the way things are," his finger traced along the gold earring he wore, "We all have accepted our fate, and so should _you_."  
I frowned slightly. "I don't understand."  
He blinked, and his mouth contorted. "_Forget_ everything," he said, "Forget _yourself_, forget _love_, forget your _dreams_." I marveled at the emphasis put into each word.  
He walked right up to me, and I couldn't help but break eye contact for a moment. "You still believe you're human, I know," he continued, none too kindly, "it usually doesn't take this long for new members to accept their fate, but we've always taken pirates and sailors, not whimpering landlubbers such as yourself." He paused, and I panicked momentarily when he reached a hand towards me face, but his fingers fell to my throat, right under my jaw at the place where my blood pulsed. All sense of tranquility gone, I swallowed and tried to keep my nerves at bay.  
"You're still alive," he said with disgust, "I can feel it," he pressed his fingers against the artery in my neck, and I tensed.  
"No," I said, taking a chance by stepping back, "I died a long time ago; I'm _not_ alive."  
"Then perhaps you'll be relieved of your very alive traits," his grip around my neck tightened, as if he was trying to decide whether to strangle me or not, but his hand fell to his side, "_Would_ be a waste."  
I released the breath that I couldn't hold any longer, my hand clamped down firmly onto the railing. Another sound of harsh laughter from the pirates below…  
"Another time," Koleniko said, tapping a finger on the side of my chin, and he left.  
Another time? For what, to threaten to snap my neck in half like a stick? I didn't know what he meant, but to say I didn't care would have been a lie. My hand absently touched the place where his hand had been. The feel was cold and clammy, much like the sea. At least he didn't bring up mention of Maccus; I would've had no defense for that topic. I quietly stepped down to the lower decks, wanting to get the slightest glimpse of the game. They were still going at it, only this time it was Palifico against two others I didn't know…_maybe_ the same people that were passengers on the boat I was on. The dice jumbled awkwardly out of their hands, gliding down with the weight of the water.  
My eyes scanned the crowd until they found Maccus standing off to the side. My hand twitched involuntarily; a part of me wanted to go down and join them, I knew mostly because I wanted to be closer to Maccus. Being able to stand in close proximity was better than nothing, for I knew I would never truly understand him as a person, never get close enough to know _who he was_.  
I raised my hand to where Maccus was standing and wondered what it would be like to feel his skin again, to feel the many barnacles that covered him.  
'Please…just let me touch you.'  
Strange, how something as simple as a touch to the arm could be the only thing a person wants and also be the only thing they couldn't have. I did feel him once…I almost _touched_ him, I was so close, but I panicked.  
There suddenly came the sound of music playing somewhere on the ship. Yes…unless going mad was part of the assimilation in living aboard this ship, I was _sure_ I heard something.  
"What in the…?" I walked to the far end of the vessel, stopping when I heard the music a little more clearly. Though it was rather muffled, I could tell the music took on a rather heartrending tone; I was awed. It was playing with a sort of intense passion.  
Footsteps interrupted my momentary daze. I turned around, welcoming Tanger into my solitude.  
"Tanger," I greeted with a quick smile.  
He stood beside me in silence for a moment, I imagine mulling over his own thoughts about the music like I was.  
"Do you know what it is?" I asked.  
"'Tis the captain," he replied quietly, "sometimes he plays his pipe organ long into the night."  
I blinked, intrigued that there was _any_ kind of instrument aboard this ship. In the back of my mind, a question lingered as to _why_ the captain would want to be playing a pipe organ on a pirate ship late at night, but I seriously doubted Tanger would know anything about it. Turning around, my nerves peeved a little by the mysterious music, I lingered my gaze absently back to the hammerhead creature.  
In the background, the music took on a bubbling, fizzing sort of note, no doubt the result of playing underwater, but I figured it must have been enchanted or manipulated somehow if it was to be heard as clearly as _I_ heard it. I shivered a little. The pirates down below didn't seem to take any visible notice of the music; they must have heard it many times before, so that they reacted to it the way one would react to the cry of a gull.  
Maccus was up for the game now, and I turned away. Tanger took note of it, because he shuffled to the side uncomfortably. I pretended not to notice. I feel a little shame in thinking this, but I wondered if Tanger somehow looked down on me for dwelling in my fantasies. Apparently, doing so was not a good idea even when you were practically _living _in one…  
I grew uncomfortable with the silence, so I decided to inquire why he thought the captain played his music.  
"_That_ I m'self am not too sure of, though I imagine he finds a sort of comfort in doing so."  
"He must."  
"_Maccus_ would know why."  
"He probably would."  
"I'm sure someone else would too."  
"…Well, I'd _never_ ask anyone."  
"Why's that?" he asked, even though I'm sure he knew.  
"I just get the feeling that they look down on me." I didn't want to talk about it, so I used a tone that somewhat suggested so.  
Tanger shrugged. "The way I see it, ye might as well get used to their presence."  
"I don't have much choice in that matter."  
"No…but if ye'd open yerself up a bit more, they'd see ye as one of them an not…" he paused, then pointed up towards the surface, "…as one of _them_."  
Following the direction of his finger, I leaned back on the railing. I wondered where Tanger found the ability to be so…open…not only to discussion, but in the way he perceived things.  
"You know, I really don't think it would be a good idea to get involved with-"  
"Ye're not leaving this place," he calmly cut in, "ye're going to be here forever. The least ye could do is open yerself up a little more…"  
"I think you're the only one on this ship who thinks that's important."  
"…And?"  
I shrugged. "_I_ don't think it's very important."  
"Believe me, if ye allow yerself to succumb to the _Dutchman_, a heavy load will be lifted from yer back. Resist adaptation, and the burden of wanting, of _needing_ human companionship will crush ye to death and slowly kill ye," he motioned a hand in response to the irony of his statement, "things are never so bad that they can't seem to get worse, Mae."  
I think I understood what he was trying to say. The way he said it, it was like hardening yourself and freezing your heart into a sculpture of ice, so to speak, was merely a defense mechanism, a tactic that the people on this ship indirectly developed to allow themselves to survive. People who sought love and understanding would never survive on this ship.  
There was truth in what Tanger said, I knew, but I couldn't quite take his words to heart. I mean, has _he_ accepted what he was? Tanger's face still resembled a shadow of humanity, but other than that it was blatantly obvious that his skin color was turning a stunning blue-grey color, thin long fins were growing out of his back, strange markings were beginning to appear on his face, and, as is the case with everyone else on this ship (myself included), was swarmed with barnacles, shells, small sea anemones and…you name it. I don't know if he had hair anymore; he always wore a hat that concealed any hair he might have had, and shaded his face.  
He was too nice to be one of them, too understanding…perhaps it was an understanding of each other that kept us both anchored to our human qualities. I sagged against the railing and watched as the pirates began clearing up their last little bit of the game.  
"About Maccus…" I started, "…would he be very angry if I asked him about the pipe organ?"  
Tanger remained silent for a moment, expressing his uncertainty with the question through quiet movements, then he allowed a smile. "I know Maccus may seem intimidating, but he's not so bad…once ye get to know him."  
"_Know_ him," I stepped in front of my friend, forcing him to look into my eyes, "You can't really mean that. _Know_ him…" I repeated, and turned away, frustrated. Did Tanger not have any idea how hard it was to so much as step _near_ Maccus? His ignorance angered me.  
Tanger folded his hands and lowered his gaze, not speaking, but telling me all the same that he _had_ nothing to say to that. I looked back towards the game to find that everyone had dispersed. I sighed and looked back at him. Several minutes passed before either one of us spoke; everything seemed so still and strange…so _dead_.  
"…What do I do?" I asked, barely above a whisper.  
"…What do ye want me to tell ye?"  
"…Anything."  
Tanger had situated himself on the railing, but he stood up now and walked over to me with kind, regarding eyes. "I say…" he said quietly, taking my hand in his, "go through each day as ye see fit. Feel the pain, don't try to hold it back. Suffer if ye need to, but stay true to yerself."  
"But you told me to _succumb_ to the change."  
"Aye, and until ye do, ye must be brave."  
I smiled and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, silently thanking him for his words.  
"As I've said before...one day at a time." He left then.  
I wondered if Tanger had been referring to Maccus when he said "pain", or whether he meant the automatic pain that accompanied those living aboard the _Flying Dutchman_. I suppose it didn't matter. The sensation I felt when being around Maccus almost nearly blotted out the tragedy of existing on this ship. Of all the tragedies that could have befallen me in this world, I think I must have done something to please God if he allowed me to be on this ship, feeling the way I did. I guess they weren't kidding when they said that each cloud had a silver lining; here, I knew Maccus must be the silver lining adorning the clouds that surrounded my life.  
I stepped down to the lower decks, careful to stay out of the way of the pirates going about their own business. My eyes fell from one face to the other. In the depths of the ocean, in the dark, it was nearly impossible for me to distinguish one from another.

I need the sun. It's been long, _so_ long since I've last seen it. I have never gone for so long in the heavy darkness. It makes me wonder if the sun hadn't become some figment of my imagination. None of the pirates seemed to be suffering the same uneasiness as I am, not even the few crewmen who've been on the ship for the same amount of time as I have. I almost wished that a wandering ship would venture into the _Dutchman's_ territory so the captain would have a reason to send us to the surface. It's a shameful thought, I know, but it's true. People truly do underestimate the effects of being in the darkness. During my past life, I was never overly afraid of the dark, but right now I know that I'll probably develop a _fear_ of it before I become _used_ to it.  
It seemed like the more time I spent on this ship, the more I wished I could become more like the others; apathetic, unafraid, and generally used to the surroundings that have plagued my mind since the day I first set eyes on this ship. Of course…who could _really_ say how the others felt? They didn't seem afraid or troubled by much…but what if it was all just an act?  
…Nevertheless…I wanted to become a part of this ship, if only to cease my torment or somehow deaden the gnawing feeling inside my mind.  
A sudden violent jolt sent tremors though the ship. We were going to the surface…I knew it! Now the only question was _why_…  
Oh well; it didn't matter much to me as long as we weren't staying underwater any longer. Still, curiosity getting the better of me as usual, I raced up on deck just in time to grab onto some rope before the ship burst forth from beneath the surface of the ocean. I opened my eyes to a horribly familiar sight: a lone ship without sails and in bad condition. My stomach did a little flip-flop, recalling what had happened last time I was forced to board an abandoned ship.  
'Maybe this one isn't abandoned,' I thought, taking in a deep breath as some of the crew members prepared to go investigate.  
Like last time, I was volunteered to help carry out this task. That fact that I've done this before did nothing to ease my nerves. Often I was only asked to come along to carry supplies or to search something out that the captain or someone obviously had a need to find.  
When we arrived on the ship, we found it to be _quite_ filled with passengers, each of whom uttered their own exclamations of surprise and backed away as soon as they saw us come aboard. I couldn't blame them.  
Maccus and Clanker had a time rounding them up, but I was actually surprised that most of the prisoners were quick to obey their whims. When the last man was put in his place, Palifico gave me orders to scavenge the ship for anything useful. I shrugged and obeyed, not quite sure what kind of things would be considered "useful" besides, maybe, weapons of sort.  
Below deck seemed like the best place to look, since that's usually where belongings were kept. Eventually, I came upon a storage room that contained a heap full of treasure, and I must say it was the first time that I was actually eager to report my findings to one of the higher-ranking crewmen. Rushing up to the next floor, Maccus was the first one I ran into.  
"Maccus," I said, "I found a room full of treasure chests on the lower deck," a pause, "should we gather it up?"  
His face twisted for a moment. "We don't have a need for treasure."  
I nearly gaped at this unexpected response. "But…you're pirates! I thought pirates _lived_ for treasure."  
"Do we seem like ordinary pirates to you?"  
"Well, no, but…if we're not looking for treasure, what _are_ we looking for?"  
"Things that could be of use to us," he pointed to one of the cabins, "That room has a store of weapons," he pointed to another, "That one with gunpowder. _Those_ are the kind of things we're looking for."  
"I see."  
He turned and entered one of the unexplored cabins, and I followed. Inside, there were rows upon rows of books, maps, and scrolls…certainly not the kind of things you'd expect to find on a pirate ship and certainly nothing that would be of use to the _Flying Dutchman_ and her crew. However, it _did_ catch my interest. I walked over to one of the shelves and scanned the titles. Judging from what I saw, this ship had done its fair share of pillaging: Military Tactics, The Fisherman's Knife, Boundaries of the First Class Citizen…  
"Why would pirates collect books like these?"  
"Pirates do their share of reading as well, Chainer," Maccus said, addressing me by my acquired nickname.  
I turned to see him looking over the book titles on another shelf as well. I was a little embarrassed that he overheard me talking to myself, but glad that he bothered to acknowledge my presence.  
One book caught my eye and I removed it from the shelf. I glanced at it, then over at Maccus.  
"Look," I walked over to him and set the book down.  
Odyssey of the Hammerhead Shark.  
He picked it up, examining it with slight interest, then handed it back to me. I couldn't help but smile a bit at the odds of coming across such a book, and…standing next to someone like Maccus. I read the first page while Maccus busied himself with the exploration of other books. Every now and then I'd sneak a glance at him; he seemed as fascinated with fiction as I was.  
"When did you learn to read?" I asked.  
"When I was a boy," he said, turning to face me, "My father taught me."  
'He remembers his father,' I thought, then said, "My aunt taught me to read and write mostly…before she moved." another pause. "Do you write as well?" As you can guess, I was more than a little hesitant to ask him that, for fear that it might offend him that I'd imply the possibility that he _couldn't_ write, but he answered:  
"My father taught me to write as well." He beckoned me over and took one of the quills that was lying on the desk. Dipping it in a bottle of open ink, he wrote his name on one of the many rolls of parchment lying about. _Maccus_, in perfect letters.  
I allowed a smile. "Well, I can't write that well."  
Before he had a chance to respond, we were called up by Palifico to head back to the _Dutchman_. Without a word to me, Maccus left.  
"There's a store of arms on this deck!" he shouted to Palifico.  
The pirates prepared to gather what they could before departing. I grabbed the book I had been reading and decided to go help, but paused at the door. Walking back over to the parchment with Maccus's name on it, I picked up the quill, wanting to write something but not knowing exactly what. _Really_ though, there was no thinking about it. To the best of my abilities, I wrote as carefully as I could under those six letters:  
_ I love you._

After gathering all the useful supplies, the rest of us were ready to go back to the ship. As we came back, I noticed a group of new faces I hadn't seen before. They counted eight, and I knew it must be those who swore themselves to the _Flying Dutchman_. I turned to the nearest crewmen, Clanker.  
"If there are eight people among the survivors, how many were there in all?"  
"Twenty-six," he said with a grin, "That's more than we usually get."  
I had to agree. The most we've ever encountered while pillaging another ship was twelve people…alive, that is.  
Maccus appeared beside us a moment later, which was strange as I swore I saw him ahead of us with some of the weapon supplies. He must have gone back for more.  
I still had the book with me. After reading a few pages, I was interested enough to want to read the whole thing, so I brought it along with me. Besides, it would provide a good distraction during free time.  
"What do you have there, Chainer?" Hadras came and pointed to the book I was holding.  
"Oh…" I held it out, "Just something I found on the wrecked ship."  
He took it and examined the cover. "Odyssey of the Hammerhead Shark," he said, then turned to Maccus, "Maccus, why didn't you tell us you wrote books?" He laughed and a few others joined in, but Maccus seemed preoccupied. I couldn't blame him; I wouldn't want to be a slacker when it came to performing my duties, especially with a captain like Davy Jones.  
"Lemme see that," Clanker chimed in, taking the book from Hadras. "Say, I once read a book like this…" he wrinkled his face, as if trying to dig out a long-lost memory from his past. "When I was a lad, I attended school. Always had to do a lot of reading, we did. Once had to read about sharks," he grinned and held the book up, "What got me interested in the sea, and finally into pirating!"  
I held my hand out for the book and tucked it under my arm.  
"I didn't know you attended school," I said, suddenly intrigued by how little I knew about the people I've been living with for about three years now.  
"Right I did. Never much liked it," he turned his hat to the side.  
I laughed a little and remembered how much I had looked foreword to living with my aunt in Massachusetts and attending school there.  
"Well, I didn't know Maccus was literate," I put in for the sake of conversation. I had forgotten how much I missed it when the subject was along "casual" and "light."  
"Maccus? Why sure he is, he's the captain's first mate," Hadras said.  
I shrugged. "I didn't know first mates were required to read."  
Hadras gave me a slap on the shoulder. "Chainer, there's a lot you don't know about captaining a ship."  
"That's right," Clanker added, "Maccus is a smart one, and first mates ought'a be smart on most accounts."  
I nodded. "Yeah…I guess so."  
They left. I felt a tap on my shoulder, thinking it was Tanger, but I turned around to see Maccus.  
"Since you seem to take such an interest in sharks," he held out another book to me. I took it, mildly wishing that his hand would touch mine, and read the title. Sharks: Tigers of the Sea.  
I couldn't speak right away, shocked a bit by his sudden act of...dare I say it..._kindness_, if that's what it was."Thank you," I said in a tone that sounded strange to my ears.  
To say that I was surprised would have been a genuine understatement. I stared at the book for what seemed like a long time, stroking the cover and the edges. I haven't even noticed that Maccus had left until I looked up. Not many pirates were hard-set at work. For a second, I wondered why we still stayed on the surface. I didn't see Tanger anywhere in sight.  
...And it suddenly hit me.  
A sharp intake of air stung my lungs as I came to a terrifying realization. No doubt, Maccus had retrieved the book from the same room we had explored earlier. Why he went back, I don't know…but there _was_ a chance that he saw what I wrote on the parchment, right under _his_ name.  
My legs suddenly felt weak, my heart beginning to pound a little faster.  
'Please, please, please don't let him know,' I chanted to myself, over and over.  
Was it the reason he brought another book back? Or was he just being nice? Neither seemed very likely. I looked at the book again, Sharks: Tigers of the Sea.  
However strong the evidence was, I decided not to let my imagination run away with me. It was bad enough that Tanger and Koleniko suspected my interest in Maccus; it'd be worse if Maccus himself suspected it…or, if my fears were true, _confirmed_ it.  
The next day I was scrubbing the decks with a few others. Brushing damp, tangled hair out of my face, I went to soak the rag again when Maccus came by my side. I stole a glance at his face, noticing it looked a bit troubled.  
"Captain says you're to clean the cannons with them," he indicated to a small group that was heading below deck where most of the weaponry was.  
"Aye, sir," I stood up and hurried to catch up to them.  
Tanger was one of the few who were assigned to the cleaning.  
"Hello, Tanger," I said.  
"Hello, lass." He handed me a small, shovel-like tool used to scrape off the barnacles. "How have things fared with ye?"  
Funny he should ask. "Good."  
"How was it boarding the ship?"  
"It was…alright, I suppose." I tossed one of the barnacles aside. We continued scrubbing until we began to notice the silence, except for the quiet shuffling of the other pirates at work.  
"There's something troubling ye," he said.  
I considered lying, but thought better of it. "Well, yes, but…I'd rather not say what it is."  
That was only half true. My entire being practically screamed for someone to talk to, someone I could vent and share my problems with, and who better than Tanger?  
"Mm, I guess I kind of do," I admitted.  
He shrugged without meeting my eyes, wresting an oyster from the long, heavy tube. For some reason, it made me feet a little bad.  
"Don't tell anyone…" I focused my gaze on the fin protruding from his back, edging all the way down his spine in shimmering colors. He listened, and I surreptitiously relayed to him what had happened on the other ship, finally inching my way to the details about the book and what I had written on paper. This last part I didn't tell him in full, merely saying that I "wrote something" that I hoped Maccus hadn't seen.  
When I finished, he leaned one elbow thoughtfully on the cannon. By now, the both of us had finished cleaning it but we made no move to work on the next one, not yet at least. I looked at the other pirates, hoping that they wouldn't decide to go and tattle on us, but they seemed about as absorbed in quiet conversation as we were. I almost laughed, wondering exactly how much work ever got done on this ship behind the captain's back.  
"S'pose ye could always ask him," Tanger offered.  
Regarding him with wide eyes, I answered, "You can't be serious…"  
He blinked. "What have ye got to lose?" We headed toward another cannon, one all grimy with debris and underwater bits and pieces.  
"Believe it or not, Tanger, despite having lost my life, my possessions, my nerve, and my mind, I still have _lots_ to lose."  
"Such is the way with love."  
A panicky feeling grew in my chest when he said that.  
"Tanger…you know…" I put a little more energy into my scrubbing, "you were right; I need to stay away from him. Thinking about it," already, I could see Maccus's face clearly in my mind, "it's nothing but trouble."  
"The feeling will pass," he patted my arm and moved away.  
I sighed. "…Yes…" the word was a whisper that seemed to die as soon as it touched air.

I didn't put much thought into the fact that we remained on the surface for so long. I figured the captain must have a particular reason for keeping the ship up. Today was a rather unusual day; there was somewhat of a party taking place among the crewmen, all of them drinking or playing dice games or chatting and whatnot.  
'Here's a change,' I thought as I approached the merry-making. 'Why would the captain allow this?'  
Nearby, Hadras and Clanker were singing off-tune with a bottle in their hands, swaying back and forth. I stifled an amused laugh.  
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see one of the crewmen with a smile on his face and his hand held out, palm upward, with a pair of dice.  
"Why don't you come and play?" he asked.  
I wasn't sure if he was drunk or not (come to think of it, I didn't even know if their fearsome bodies were still subject to intoxication at all), but I answered for what I was sure was the hundredth time:  
"I told you before, I don't play."  
"You gotta play once," he jingled the dice in his hands.  
"No I don't."  
"Leave her," a familiar voice sounded behind me. A tall figure passed by and stood by the crewmen; it was Maccus. My heart rate went up. "She's not the type to play…seems she's still anchored to the land." I couldn't quite decide whether his tone was meant to sound derogatory or not, nor was I sure if I caught his meaning, but I swallowed and tried not to let my gaze linger on him for long.  
"Ah, have it your way," the crewmen waved his hand and lumbered off. I was both relieved and disappointed that he left; relieved, because now at least I wouldn't be pestered into betting my supposed years of service with other more experienced crewmen, and disappointed because I wasn't at all sure what to say, standing alone there with Maccus.  
He turned his good eye on me, mouth slightly parted, teeth closed.  
"Now would be a good time to explain this," he retrieved a folded piece of paper tucked into his sash so fast I didn't even have time to consider what it might be.  
He handed it to me, and I opened it to find the piece of paper we both had written on a few days ago. His name and my message were waterlogged, but readable.  
I immediately met his eyes, and said, "I wasn't referring that message to you," and it was weird, how…_automated_ my answer was, how I said it without thinking, as if my mouth was some kind of defense mechanism used to protect me from the feared unknown of what might happen should I actually spill out the truth. I'm not proud to admit it, but I've done my fair share of lying in the past and have always felt ok with it, more or less, but this one hurt. It hurt, like every falsehood I've ever concocted piled up and dropped like a hot, sticky towel and smeared its shameful reality across my face.  
His brow furrowed slightly, and I hoped against hope that he sensed the lie in my voice, in my words.  
'It _was_ you! I _was_ referring to you!'  
He opened his mouth, baring serrated teeth. "You're lucky I don't tell the captain about this."  
Don't I know it.  
He turned away, and I seriously considered blurting out the truth right then and there. I followed after him for a few steps.  
"…Um…" Then I became aware of the many faces around me. A conversation with Maccus would have to wait.  
I folded the piece of paper so that it would be completely concealed in my hand. I realized now he could have asked me who that small message was for. For some reason, Maccus chose not to inquire.  
Maybe he didn't care.  
Maybe he didn't think to ask.  
Maybe he saw through my falsehood and knew that it was, indeed, a message written for him.  
'Just not for him to _see_,' I thought.  
The chorus of several voices caught my attention momentarily. I looked around. Palifico, his face an ever-present mask of coral and barnacles, was trying his luck with Liar's Dice. Penrod was his opponent. Wheelback muttered a string of gurgling nonsense to himself, standing alongside Palifico as he rolled the dice. I shook my head; Wheelback always puzzled me. I've never heard anything intelligible come out of his mouth, poor soul. The pirates seemed so focused on their game that for a moment, I wanted so much to be a part of it. I wanted to be a part of their group.  
Bootstrap was the only one I saw who didn't seem to be participating in the fun. He was gazing out to the sea, his hand absently clutching some rope. He looked so lonely.  
'Oh…I don't blame you…' I sighed and strolled aimlessly away; I didn't feel right about intruding into Bootstraps' boundaries…or…maybe it was just that _I_ wanted to be alone.  
I later found Maccus near the helm of the ship, conversing with two other crewmen who left just as I was approaching. My hand moved to the railing as the ship rocked. I don't really know what carried me to him during that moment, but for once I didn't turn my back to walk away.  
"Maccus," I approached him and held out the folded paper, taking note that he didn't get angry when I used his name this time, "You should get rid of it instead of me. If anyone finds it, it could be bad." I frowned as the fading sunlight beamed toward my eyes. Maccus took the paper from my hand, a pleasant feeling of déjà vu washing over me as his skin briefly touched mine. I released a breath I didn't even know I was holding; he felt so nice.  
Crumpling the paper in his hand, Maccus and I locked eyes. His looked human in a way. They were cold…but lovely.  
The silence began eating away at me, and I grew uncomfortable. I wished one of us would speak, but I didn't know _what_ to say.  
'Well…_say_ something…' I inwardly pleaded to Maccus. I suppose I could have left right then and there; I could have walked away like I had done so many times before, but then…what happened next wouldn't have happened.  
"Bad, you say…" he echoed.  
I nodded. "For the both of us." And somehow I knew in saying that, I had given it away.  
Maccus looked out to the horizon, turning his exquisite face away from me. As much as I wanted to, I hadn't been able to read the expression on his face. My eyes wandered to his arm, and I dared lay a hand on it, caressing the rough ridges of the barnacles and oddities that adorned him.  
He glanced at me, and I had to fight not to break the link with his eyes. I hoped that, when he looked into mine, he could see how much I cared about him, how much I wanted to know who he was.  
The feel of him was endearing; I'd even go as far as to say intoxicating. But he didn't pull away or yell…maybe, just maybe, there was a sign in that, a hidden message.  
I wish he spoke more often, at least to me. I thought he had a remarkably pleasant voice, but to me, I guess, he never _had_ anything to say unless it was to give orders.  
'Is that all you have to say to me?' I wondered, feeling an awful pang in my chest.  
It was hard being this close to him without scanning him and his features; the staring, crystalline eye on the side of his hammerhead, the scar running across it, even the crustacean legs growing out of his back were horrifyingly captivating.  
"God, it's so beautiful!" I breathed, looking at the pink and orange clouds settling into the sky, right over the sinking sun. If living aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ has taken its toll on me, seeing something as simple and pleasing to the eye as a sunset was not one of the things affected by the malevolent aura of this ship.  
Maccus skimmed the surroundings. Reluctantly, I removed my hand from his arm and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the sea. On the _Dutchman_, everything smelled like the sea.  
"If you don't mind my asking…" I quietly ventured, "Why did you choose to serve aboard this ship?"  
He faced me with a frown on his face. "Was a long time ago. I remember none of it."  
I softly "oh'd" and fell silent, wondering how much longer I had before I would start forgetting major events in my life…not that there were many of those. Coming aboard this ship was, without a doubt, the biggest thing that has ever happened to me, but…I still remember things here and there of my past life. There was the offer from my aunt to come live with her, where I could attend school. There was the marriage of my sister to her husband. There was the time my best friend moved from our town.  
"I think I'm starting to forget things too…certain things…"  
By far this has been the longest conversation I've ever had with him, and I certainly didn't want to end the moment. I didn't feel like he'd take a particular interest whether I was forgetting my past or not, but the subject was safe material to work with.  
He must have felt I was a trustworthy person to confide in, because he said:  
"There is…one thing I've always remembered."  
I held my breath.  
"My brother was with me the day I decided to serve aboard the _Dutchman_." He turned away once again. He had said it in normal tones, as if the memory of his brother neither bothered nor interested him.  
"I didn't have any family with me," I quietly responded, "I guess that's a good thing." When he made no response, I added, "Then again, it'd be nice to have someone to talk to."  
Maccus displayed a not-so-friendly grin. "You get used to your solitude."  
"…Do you ever feel alone?"  
"No."  
It was my turn to look away. I thought about how great it must be not to feel lonely. I was often lonely for human contact, such as having a simple conversation. I thanked God that Tanger and Bootstrap were friendly enough to make up for this loss, until, that is, the both of them changed for good and became like the other members of this crew. By then, hopefully, I'd be well along the way myself. Maccus, well…he was certainly a powerful distraction…Oh...but he was amazing, in so many ways.  
I sighed. It got darker, and the brilliance of the clouds had diminished somewhat, but it was still beautiful.  
My eyes wandered again, and just then I noticed a cruel notch on Maccus's arm. It looked like some kind of puncture, but it was bleeding. My mouth parted.  
"Maccus?" I questioned upon reflex.  
He looked at me and for a moment I was caught up in the uniqueness of those eyes, like they were trying to burn holes through me.  
"You're bleeding," I managed to say.  
He bared his teeth, moving his other hand onto the wound. I couldn't help but look away, feeling like I did something wrong.  
"Nothing serious," he said, still showing his teeth.  
I'm sure my eyes were wide with surprise. I wanted to ask him where he got that cut from, but I had a bad feeling about doing so, like I might be nudging sensitive territory.  
"Look," I took one of the cleaning rags that I grew accustomed to carrying around with me, "I have some cloth. You might want to dab it a little so it won't get worse." I held out my other hand for the off-chance that he might actually let me take a look at it, and was more than a little surprised when he actually offered me his wrist.  
My heart pounded as I gingerly placed my hand around his. Touching him nearly drove me insane, because I always wanted more; the feel of his hand was enthralling, but I wanted to caress his face, his arm, his neck…  
"It won't get worse," I gently pressed the cloth onto the cut, just above his wrist, wishing I had a better rag to work with. "It might take a bit to stop the bleeding…but it'll help."  
Throughout the process my mind swam with possible reasons as to how and why Maccus punctured his arm. Maybe he received it while fighting a resilient prisoner during one of the _Dutchman's_excursions. I suppose it was just as likely that he could have been hurt by one of the crewmen themselves…but no…I got a good look at the red mark, it wasn't caused by a sword or dagger.  
Another question puzzled me that I _was_ willing to ask.  
"Don't crewmen treat their wounds?"  
He made a faint hissing noise. "There's never a need. You look after yourself on this ship, as with anyone who's ever chosen a life at sea."  
My mouth twitched. "…At any rate…your cut will get better…" I let him take the place of my hand on top of the rag. I wanted to keep my hand there on top of his arm, but to do so would be suspicious. I felt closer to him, assisting him in cleaning his wound, even if I wasn't much of a medical expert.  
As always, my gaze lingered on his face making it seem like a full-blown stare, but I looked away when he turned to regard me. I heard the sound of something being torn and looked back to see bits and pieces of paper fluttering down into the salty water, landing delicately like a flock of doves come to rest on the water.  
"It's no more," he said.  
No…indeed.  
I didn't know how to respond, so I walked to the other side of him, suddenly becoming bold enough to stroke his arm as I passed. A moment came and went, and our eyes met. I'm not sure how it happened…I don't care _why_, really, but…when we looked at each other, it was as if we suddenly recognized something in the others' eyes that we had never noticed before, something we had been missing over and over again every time our faces found one another.  
Perfectly synthesized, if only for one breadth of a minute, our faces drew closer, closer...until our mouths met.  
I closed my eyes, knowing for certain I was going to faint in response to the impossibly overwhelming pleasure being transferred from his mouth to mine. His teeth pierced the skin all around my mouth and face, but I didn't mind in the least. My nerves were in an uproar, my heart was racing a mile a minute, and still…I felt more alive than I ever had during my previous life.  
Impulsively, my hands reached up to cradle his face, his neck, his shoulders…feeling and seeing him with everything but my eyes. Neither of us needed to think; our actions were coming more from the desire of the heart than from logic or protocol.  
A moment longer and I would have lost myself completely, succumbing to the unspeakable sensation Maccus was inadvertently offering me.  
Then he broke away.  
"No," he said, shoulders gently rising and falling, I guess from the sheer absurdity of what the both of us had just done. "That was dangerous. We shouldn't have done that."  
I didn't respond…_couldn't_ respond. My limbs felt weak now, the life-source they had felt so clearly seconds before being cut-off completely, as if I were a fish in a small bowl who found itself suddenly cast upon dry land. I couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't breath…  
…But after a prolonged silence, I finally found the heart to speak his name.  
"Maccus…?"  
"We'll be given to the kraken if the captain finds out," he said, and without another word he walked away, leaving me alone once again.  
My legs carried me back until I felt hard wall behind me. I sunk down to the floor and stayed there for a long time, practically being eaten alive by my own thoughts. Tanger never came looking for me; the pirates were still carrying on with their festivities…Maccus didn't come back.  
By the time I had the heart to stand up and find my way below deck, the sun had long since sunk behind the horizon and the only light came from the full moon, centered against the dark sky like a giant pearl on a strip of velvet.  
Maccus…how would I ever face him now? _How_?  
I found my way past the jostling crowds where I was able to relocate to a somewhat more secluded space. As soon as I was alone, I couldn't be strong any longer. I hid my face in my hands as tears cascaded out from my eyes.  
I said his name to myself. The moment we shared had been so perfect, it was like...like a dream or something.  
Ever since sentencing myself to a life aboard the _Dutchman_, I'd always imagine myself leaving it behind and returning to my old life, but when I was with Maccus, it was like…when I'm near him, I don't really want to _be_ anywhere else.  
I touched my fingers to my mouth, and felt a trickle of blood streaming down the side. Maccus's teeth were about as sharp as they looked. I felt light-headed but, _God_, what I'd give to taste his mouth again…  
My heart beat wildly inside my rib cage. I closed my eyes, replaying that moment over and over and over again, when our eyes met, when we got as close as humanly possible, and still we weren't close enough. For those few moments, we understood each other…no, maybe not understood, but we were _together_. We were one and the same.  
Then he broke away.  
He had said it was dangerous, that we would be given to the kraken if Davy Jones ever found out. He was right, I knew, but I couldn't have been more surprised if he had punched me in the face, for that's what his withdrawal had felt like.  
That kiss…  
Why did we do it? Were we simply caught in the moment, or was there a deeper meaning behind it? I knew there was for _me_; had I not spent the past three years in agonizing distance away from him, wanting to know him, but unable to muster the nerve to speak to him?  
Yes, I have, but _him_…? I found it a little ironic that my first kiss should happen under such strange circumstances and in such a strange place with such a person as him.  
…_Such a person_…


	4. Part IV

Note: I realize this took me ages to post, but like I mentioned before, I had a bad case of writer's block. I think I might've actually gotten somewhere with this chapter though. I'm always really picky about keeping people IC (which is tough especially when you're working with potential romance, and I'm not overly fond of romance when it involves villains like Maccus, but I can't help myself!)

Anyway, it's my understanding that when an author holds out on readers for a long period of time, they loose interest. It's happened to me, but be that as it may, I still hope you enjoy this chapter! My love and thanks to all you reviewers!

_Aboard the Flying Dutchman_

_Part 4_

"Mae?" Tanger's voice made me jump.

"Yes?" I hurriedly wiped away the wetness on my face, trying to compose myself.

Tanger came into view from behind a set of stairs. "There ye are. There's a new store of food and drink recovered from one of the ships," he indicated toward the upper deck, "There's plenty, if ye want some."

At the moment, my stomach was in no shape to hold food, but before I could answer him, Tanger took a step closer, squinting his eyes as if he were staring at the sun. "Why, ye've gone rather pale, more so than usual…What's the matter?"

"I have?" I touched my face. "I've been tired lately."

He tilted his head. "Ye're bleeding…Where'd that come from?"

"…Never mind. I want to go see what there is to eat." I walked past him and headed toward the stairs, but didn't make it in time.

"Mae," I stopped, forcing myself to look Tanger in the face, painfully self-conscious. "What's happened to ye?"

I sighed, cursing inwardly and marveling Tanger's intuitiveness. "I…can't tell you." But I did want to. I wanted, _needed_, to tell somewhat what had happened up on deck. Big secrets are impossible to keep for very long, but I wasn't ready to set the cards on the table just yet. Without another word, I continued up the stairs, knowing Tanger's eyes were on me the whole time.

Most of the pirates were helping themselves to the alcoholic beverages abstained from the victim ship, completely ignoring the food. It was just as well they did, for it meant I could choose what I wanted without competition (not something to be taken lightly here, I've learned.) Meekly rummaging through the wooden crates, I chose a tin of crackers to settle my stomach. The whole time, I was thinking about what I'd do or say if I ran into Maccus. I wondered if he regretted what had happened. I know I didn't, but I couldn't say the same for him…

"Hand it over!" The pirates squabbled over their choice of drink. While normally amused by their behavior, I chose to eat in solitude so I meandered my way out of everyone's view.

Opening the tin, I picked out a cracker to chew on; salty and virtually tasteless, but hopefully it would do its work and relieve the unsettling of my stomach. I knew, really, that I would never truly feel at ease until I saw him again. I had to know, I had to find out from _him_ why he chose to connect for that very brief moment.

Why? _Why_?

"Where are you?" I whispered, rising from my seated position. I hadn't seen him above deck, so maybe he was conversing with the captain. I felt restless.

My fingers wiped at the blood near my mouth, and I absently sucked on the red fluid, wanting to find a trace of him in it. A metallic taste grazed my taste buds, but I knew it had flown from his teeth.

X X X X X X

Night fell and still we remained on the surface. For the most part, the crew remained inactive. Most of the chores have been completed, so we all got a chance to relax for the evening. I sat beside Tanger on the floor against the wall of the deck, both of us bemusedly watching the activities of the other pirates.

Nearby, Jimmylegs was involving himself in some sort of hobby with his whip; probably making sure it stayed nice and smart when used. I made a face. I felt sorry for anyone who had to bear the brunt of his mastery. I myself have never been lashed with the thing, but I've seen it used on others; the sound it made when it struck always made me cringe. I was lucky, I suppose…lucky I was never selected to turn the wheel (which, after all this time, I found was officially named the Kraken hammer) due to my lack of speed and strength. Pirates, as a rule, enjoy tormenting each other with cruel games and trickery, but to them, summoning the Devil of the Deep was more important than wasting time trying to humiliate people like me, thank Heaven. I also wasn't the type to draw attention, and for that I was inexplicably thankful.

"He's digging his own grave," Tanger said, observing a false move made by Hadras while he and Koleniko were practicing their sword-fighting skills.

I frowned, borrowing some of Tanger's interest. Koleniko had thrust his sword right past Hadras's face, nearly knocking his head off for the umpteenth time.

"Be careful, will you!" Hadras shouted, but Koleniko only responded with a laugh.

"…At least they can fight without having to worry about killing each other," I said.

"Ah, but to an extent," Tanger replied, "They can still be hurt."

There was a sudden outburst of voices coming from the front of the ship and the pirates immediately abandoned their activities to investigate, Tanger and I included. The captain along with Maccus, was already standing there in front of the helm.

There was a pirate ship approaching with its black and white crossbones flag strung high into the air. It looked spooky sailing out there in the dark of the horizon, and the waves noisily lapping its sides. I noticed that this ship, unlike the others we had approached before, was designed and crafted with an unusually high amount of skill and attention. At the front was carved a strange, unidentifiable swanlike creature with a woman's face, its wings splayed out on both sides as if it were protecting its ship.

The captain turned to Maccus. "Assemble the group," he ordered. Maccus nodded once and called out several named. At that moment, Davy Jones literally disappeared from sight through the front of the ship like a ghost. My voice caught in my throat; had I been less used to the insanity that this ship seemed to bask in, however, I might've been more surprised.

Tanger gave a small laugh. "Ye've been here for three years. Don't tell me ye didn't know the captain could do _that_."

I shook my head. "I haven't. How does he do it??"

He shrugged.

I shook off my momentary surprise and focused my attention back on the stranger ship.

"…I wonder what they're doing."

"Captain's got unfinished business to negotiate with the pirates," Bootstrap said, coming beside us. "They won't escape without a struggle."

"Escape?" Tanger asked, and Bootstrap nodded.

"Sometimes, those with stouter hearts'll make a deal with Davy Jones, and if he becomes displeased in any way…" he stopped.

"What kind of deal?" I asked, curious.

He shrugged a shoulder. "Could be anything, but always…things far from Holy."

I shook my head_. Pirates_.

Tanger hesitantly made his way toward the other end of the ship; Bootstrap and I followed.

"This makes me uneasy," Tanger sunk down to the floor against the wall.

"The captain _always _makes me uneasy," I replied. After a moment of silence, "I wish I could see what's going on."

Tanger looked over his shoulder toward the ship. "I don't wager it's anything we want to see."

I swallowed. "No…I guess not."

At that moment, a tall, dark shape approached us and I turned to see a rather sturdy-looking crewman standing there. Right away, images of killer whales popped into my mind when laying eyes on this pirate, for his skin was a pure two-tone of black and white, and he was broad (more so than Maccus, which was saying something.) He had a dorsal fin growing along the back of his head and neck, looking more like the creature he was changing into than a human man. When he opened his mouth, his teeth were large and serrated.

"You three want to see what the captain's up to?" He asked in a gravely voice.

We exchanged glances. The pirate handed us a telescope, which Bootstrap reluctantly took from the webbed hand.

"Who are you?" Tanger asked the crewman.

"The name's Launch," he said as Bootstrap handed the telescope to Tanger, who peered through it to pry on the goings-on of the other ship.

"I think it's only fair that I know your names as well." He looked at me expectantly.

"Well…people call me Chainer…but my real name is Mae."

"Bootstrap," said man nodded once without smiling, holding Launch with his deep, watery gaze.

"Tanger," he lowered the telescope and regarded Launch with slight curiosity.

Launch returned the expression with a grin. "Well, you've had a look. What did your eyes see?"

"…The captain seemed to be talking to a man, a _pirate_," he looked though it again. "The man looks scared; I don't blame him, the captain's coming off aggressive-like. Not to mention there's the rest of the crew to frighten the life out of 'em."

"Can I see?" I asked, and Tanger handed me the telescope.

He was certainly right about Davy Jones seeming angry; he was rather animated in the way he spoke to whom I assumed was the ship's captain. I guided the instrument to where I knew Maccus was standing. He had his ax poised beside one of the pirate's throats, evidently awaiting orders.

"Gruesome, is it?" Launch said standing beside me. I lowered the telescope.

"I wouldn't look for too long," he continued, "The captain knows when he's being watched." He smiled as if the thought amused him.

I set the telescope down, thankful, despite his enigmatic demeanor, that he informed me of that fact before I found it out for myself.

"Are ye _tryin_' to get us in trouble?" Tanger asked with an edge in his voice.

"No; it wouldn't be of interest to me." Launch answered truthfully.

'_That's _a relief,' I thought, a little disdainfully.

Tanger narrowed his eyes, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. We didn't know what to make of this new face - we had never seen him before and weren't sure what his motives for confronting us were (on the "off chance," of course, he was like every other pirate aboard the _Flying Dutchman _and enjoyed a good game of "Let's Humiliate Other Crewmembers.")

"Oh, _for a piece of eight_, the pirate lies dead!" Launch exclaimed. We followed his gaze to the foreigner vessel where his words began to make sense, for the pirate captain indeed laid dead on the floor of his own ship.

"Oh my God…"

"He must've done something to anger Davy Jones," Tanger remarked darkly.

I hadn't realized how tight my throat had become until Tanger lightly touched my arm, causing me to expel the air I had been holding.

"Ye alright, lass?"

"Yes," I managed, knowing my voice betrayed me.

I had heard once that witnessing death becomes easier to bear after the first time. I think for some people, it must qualify after a dozen times, because even though I had seen death more than once since becoming a member of the _Dutchman_, I wasn't even remotely used to it.

I felt painfully self-conscious and weak, and I'm sure they expected such of me, me being a female. In storybooks and plays, people are always portrayed as resilient, able to overcome obstacles and fears in the blink of an eye. Had I expected the same of myself? Maybe, but I see that I was wrong and felt more than a little disappointed in my lack of strength of will. I want to be strong, not weak!

"I think I'll step away."

X X X X X X

I never did find out what the captain's business was on the pirate ship. Their crew, now captain-less, was naturally forced to make the renowned decision that was universal to all pirates; serve aboard the _Flying Dutchman _or die and face judgment for their sins.

How did I end up being on this ship again?

Nearly half of the opposing crew decided to take up with us. There weren't a lot of them to begin with, but I was surprised that so many of them were eager to join. Apparently, a lot of pirates feared death.

Other than acquainting the newcomers with work (without so much as a spare second to gather their thoughts), things seemed to be flowing at a steady pace for the next few days, at least as steady as things could possibly be on this ship.

I could never get over that kiss though…

The sensation had never truly left me. While perhaps not always occupying my thoughts, his kiss rooted itself into my body, into my limbs, running a wild and uncontrolled path though my veins as if it were searching for a way out but couldn't find one.

Whenever I saw him now, I was always torn between feeling ashamed and feeling thrilled. Ashamed…I suppose, because I felt a certain amount of guilt for my part in the act…but Maccus was right. The idea of the two of us…was unfathomable. No two ways about it.

That thrilled feeling though, that spoke for itself. If thinking about Maccus was a problem before, it was nothing compared to how intensely he dominated my thoughts _now_. Sometimes it became so overwhelming that I began to feel afraid. I'm the type of person who lets their thoughts consume them to the point where it starts to get in the way of things, and the right now the last thing I wanted was trouble.

But God…Maccus…his skin felt _so_ nice…

I angrily reprimanded myself to snap out of it, but knew it was no use. Those thoughts would come again and again until…well, until they consumed me in some way…

Launch remained a constant mystery. I couldn't help but wonder how he seemed to pop up out of nowhere every now and then. One minute I'd be talking to Tanger, and the next thing I know, Launch appears behind our backs or from behind a wall, jumping into our conversation and not hesitating to give his two cents on whatever subject we'd be talking about. I swear he must possess the same ability that the captain has, teleporting from one place to another.

Other than that, the days spent in darkness passed at an agonizing rate. I was beginning to think I might waste away if I didn't come into contact with Maccus at least once more. The suspense was unbearable.

Tanger, praise be, always provided a listening ear. I know now that, no matter how trustworthy a person is, they could never possibly keep a secret as deep and meaningful as the one I had a secret for long; things that are important always need telling. That's how I decided to tell Tanger what happened.

I didn't spill out too many details…didn't much need to, because Tanger was surprised enough.

"That's…_irregular_," he said, pushing his hat back. "Him and yerself…_Blast_ it, lass, do ye know what ye're getting yerself into?" He lowered his voice to a hushed whisper, so as not to attract attention. At the moment, most crewmen were off duty.

I shook my head. "I had to tell _someone_. You're the only one I trust."

He covered his eyes. "Ye've no idea how lucky ye are no one saw…_Both _of ye."

"No, I don't, and hopefully I won't _ever_ have any idea," I frowned, "What do I do, Tanger? I don't think I can stand it anymore, seeing him everyday…"

"Mae, I don't want to see anything bad happen to ye, but if ye don't put a stop to this…" he shook his head.

I knew what he meant, and I was afraid. It was one thing for me to get in trouble, but it was another thing when Maccus was suddenly in over his head. Putting him in that position was the _last _thing I wanted. I knew it would be best if I simply let go of everything and moved on.

"Look, I'm…going to try and not dwell on him-"

"Yes, ye will," he cut in, "Even _I_ know that." He seemed rather uncomfortable talking about it, but continued, "There is no way to fight back what's already been done," he pointed at me, "Both of ye _shared _something. May have been a small, fleeting, non-existent something, but it's _something_, and it won't be forgotten so easily as ye'd like to believe."

"No…" I sighed, "Not by _me _anyway…"

Tanger folded his arms and looked away, staring through the walls. "I can't speak for Maccus, but ye should take his word, sure as anything, not to pursue this thing that can't be found on a ship like this…do ye understand?"

"I do…but…" I clutched at a strand of rope, "Tanger, hasn't it already been _found_?"

He didn't answer, so I continued, "If good feelings can't be found on this ship, then _why _do I feel this way? Why can't I stop thinking about him?"

He shrugged and pushed back his hat. "Ye got me there, lass."

Minutes passed by in which neither of us spoke, so I turned to leave, but not before Tanger had the last word.

"How do ye know 'tis not your refusal to accept your place on this ship?"

X X X X X X

After helping raise the tattered sails the next morning after we made a break for he surface, I was told by Palifico to go and help take an inventory of the ship's supplies. I was incredibly relieved; taking inventory was one of the easier tasks to perform. On the way down to the lower decks, I wondered what Maccus was doing at this moment. Since he was Davy Jones's first mate, his duties were obviously above-normal significance. I could only imagine what deeds he needed to carry out for the captain.

My hopes were high today. When I think of the life I used to have as a normal person (I still consider myself normal except for my living standards and, ahem, my attraction to shark-men), "high hopes" never had as much worth to me as it does now. Living on the _Flying Dutchman_ has changed my perspective on a great many things. I've long learned that positive feelings such as happiness, excitement, and affection were all things taken for granted…even love, which is probably the most misunderstood of all emotions, was a thing taken for granted. Even in terms of my feelings for Maccus, I couldn't place my finger on the definition of love. I knew that what I felt for him was _strong_…so much that it was, in a way, painful.

I sigh. I was, in some sense, in love with someone who couldn't possibly return the love I had for him.

I heard the noises of boxes being opened and knew another crewman was down there to take an inventory as well. Aside from Tanger and Bootstrap, I didn't speak to other pirates on a regular basis.

I braced myself, ready to find out who it was I would be working with today. If I'm lucky, it'll be one of the two aforementioned. Whoever it was, his back was turned to me. If I didn't see their faces, I really couldn't tell most of the pirated apart; all of them had the same grisly appearance. When he turned to face me, I hoped my luck had not run out.

"Figures you'd be late," Koleniko said, stacking one crate on top of the other.

'I'm not late,' I thought, a little taken aback, 'Am I?' Still, I kept my mouth shut.

He shoved a list into my hands, all waterlogged and running with ink. "Make sure everything's on this list."

I nodded and set to work without comment. Though it was a tedious job, taking inventory was always a preferred task over scrubbing the decks or raising the masts. It had never occurred to me before that pirates were organized enough to take inventories, but then, I never knew much about pirates before coming aboard this ship.

Koleniko performed his work in silence, as did I. I was a little afraid that he might give me a hard time, as usual, but he kept to himself. Surely he had better things to do with his time than to bother lowly crew members like myself anyway. It bothered me a little that, despite the fact that I've lived on this ship for years now, I had never truly seen myself as a solid member of the crew - I wasn't "one of them;" I was just _among _them. Surely though…surely one day I will stop looking beyond the confines of this ship into a world I had lost, but once had. Someday my eyes won't see past the mast, the helm, the ghostly sails and the many supernatural beings that inhabit this vessel of the damned. And I would be a part of it.

"Looks like everything's here," I said, sweeping my eyes over the miscellaneous supplies (mostly weaponry) that cluttered the room.

"Very well," Koleniko held out his hand for the list without so much as a glance. I gave it to him. When he quickly started heading back up on deck, I asked, "Did they say what I was supposed to do next?"

He regarded me with his normal eye for a moment, then motioned his head upward. Taking that as my cue to follow, I trailed behind at a safe distance.

It was my guess that winter had arrived, because the cold air struck me like an arrow when I stepped out into the open deck.

One pirate I recognized as Greenbeard approached me and shoved a bucket in my hands. I could see where this was going.

"Make yourself useful," he spat and went to harass someone else.

I let out a long sigh. I guess I wasn't able to get out of scrubbing decks after all.

X X X X X X

By evening, we were still on the surface. As much as I usually enjoyed it, the chilly air made being above water less pleasurable than usual. I could not, however, see any trace of my breath; my body no longer possessed the internal heating it once had. The fact that the sun wasn't out didn't help matters either.

Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I wandered aimlessly around the ship in search of something to do. Free time usually occurred during hours after dark when there was little else to be done, and it was always during those times that I became much more aware of my loneliness.

As usual, the pirates seemed to be enjoying their leisure time, performing their own individual tasks. I wondered if they felt as cold as I did, knowing there wasn't a single thing that could bring back the long-lost feeling of warmth. They probably didn't even remember what warmth felt like.

I can still remember, but it's becoming increasingly hard and I have to work on it each time. Warmth is basically the opposite of cold, like what you feel when the sun shines on your skin.

I was lost for a while in the memory, and suddenly I came to. Looking up, I was startled (though I didn't show it) to see a tall figure a ways in front of me. I knew who it was. As if we both simultaneously agreed on it, we approached one another and at last, for what seemed like months, Maccus graced me with his hard, beautiful eyes.

I opened my mouth to speak, but didn't know what to say.

"I shouldn't be talking to you," he said.

I looked down, feeling like I've been stung by a giant wasp.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," I said, bringing it out into the open at last, "I hope you didn't get in trouble…I wouldn't want you to get in trouble." And surely if he did, I would have known and been punished myself.

I felt so awkward, but then I was surprised to find his hand touching my shoulder, and I looked up at him.

"There is a way," he began, "If you're willing…I can propose a wager to the captain."

I blinked. "A wager? What do you mean?"

He considered for a moment, then smiled. "You'll find out."

_What _will I find out?

Before I could ask him, he turned and walked off without another word.

'_There is a way,' _he said. A way for _what_? What kind of wager did he want to propose to the captain and for what reason wouldn't I be willing to agree? I guess in the meantime, all I could do was wait for him to return.

At least he was speaking to me.

Feeling anxious and, I admit, a little high-spirited, I took a seat on the stairs close to the helm.

Launch was nearby chatting with another sailor, one hand firmly grasping a rope tied to the mast. Palifico was sitting by himself as well, sharpening a sword that was barely discernable for all the barnacles and sticky shells covering it.

"Bootstrap," he said, looking at the man, "Hand me a knife."

Bootstrap, who was mopping the deck, complied and went to fetch the knife. I must by crazy to assume so, but I was under the impression that these pirates treated each other more like comrades than like slaves, but Bootstrap did what Palifico asked of him. Was the same expected of me? I had no way of knowing, since no one feigned to notice me even when I _was _performing my work. For the most part, I was thankful for the lack of attention; it was the last thing I wanted from the people on this ship (with the exception of Tanger, Maccus, and Bootstrap.)

Still, while my choice of company wasn't exactly the most desired in the world…I was lonely. Humans are creatures that thrive on contact with one another, not to say these fish-people were human any longer, but contact is just as essential as food and water.

I decided to go look for Tanger. I hadn't seen him all day, and I didn't know where to look, but I sensed he might be below deck somewhere, it's where I usually found him when he was off-duty, but as much as he was a friend to me, I scarcely ever went below deck unless my duties required it.

I'm not sure, but I think it probably had something to do with the little incident I had with the rusty chains that, to this day, I still wear around my ankles. The other reason is that I found it more comforting above deck where the wind could be felt and the above world could be seen when we weren't submerged, something that didn't occur often.

"Tanger?" I called warily, hoping that I wouldn't be answered by a less-friendly individual.

Hearing a shuffling noise to my right, I looked to see Tanger emerge from the shadows like a specter.

"Mae," he said, "Do ye need something?"

"No, I just wondered where you were."

He didn't answer and I felt a little uneasy, so I asked, "How come you're down here all by yourself?"

He blinked and folded his arms. "I could ask ye the same question."

It was my turn to blink. Why was he being so _defensive_; didn't I just tell him why I was down here? "…I guess…"

He looked around, moving to the side a little as he spoke, "Why are ye alone all the time?"

I stuck my hands into my coat pockets, buying a few seconds to think up a passable answer. "Because…I'm lonely."

Man alive, _that _was what I came up with.

Tanger raised his chin, as if he didn't hear me properly. I felt so foolish.

"Ye isolate yerself because ye're _lonely_?"

I shook my head. "I'm not lonely for just _anyone_…"

The words came out as if my heart knew something my mind didn't, but I half-hoped that Tanger wouldn't catch on to the underlying meaning in that statement…a false hope, because Tanger was nothing if not sharp.

"…So…he spoke to ye again?"

"…Yes."

"And?"

I shrugged. "He didn't say much, just…" I shook my head, frustrated. How could I explain what happened? "He said he was going to see the captain."

Tanger's eyes widened. One rarely went to visit the captain except the first mate, but even that was only when it was direly important. Still, I couldn't see why this (apparently) alarmed Tanger.

"I'm at a loss fer words," he pushed his hat back, Tanger's trademark sign of deep thought or worry.

"…So am I."

X X X X X X

It wasn't until nightfall that I saw Maccus again. My hands hurt worse than ever from scrubbing and pulling rope all day. As a result, I wasn't enjoying my spare time as much as usual.

Maccus, as bold as ever, strolled up to me with a slightly sinister smile plastered on his face. I stared up at him.

"The captain's agreed to my proposal," he said.

"What proposal?" I asked, feeling nervous.

He flashed his triangular teeth. "Wait and see."

I nodded, but he mirrored his earlier performance and disappeared. I followed him this time, until he descended a small flight of stairs and situated himself on the floor, kneeling in front of a set of three cups.

So Maccus was going to play Liar's Dice.

This puzzled me even more. I was so tempted to ask and ask and ask until Maccus told me what his proposal was, but like all things, asking questions here was like trying to sail the sea without a helm. Not going to happen.

So I kneeled myself at the top of the stairs while a group collected around Maccus. I wondered who his opponent was going to be during this round, when a familiar noise silenced the murmuring pirates at once.

Heavy. Slow. Deliberate. A noise I knew could only be made by none other than captain Davy Jones himself. It never ceased to amaze me how he emitted such fearful authority over the crew, not to say I couldn't see _why_. God, _I_ cowered and felt like a weakling for doing so, but my fear overrides my pride when it comes to anything aboard this ship. Pride is non-existent on the _Flying Dutchman_. Maybe that's why I tend to me more miserable than the others; I was living in a beehive seeping with fear and doubt. The other pirates seem unhappy a fair amount of the time, but I have seen them…not exactly _happy_, but a high-spirited, whether it was while playing a round of Liar's Dice or (ahem) pillaging unfortunate vessels.

…What do I have?

…Three anchors fastening me to the core of myself, keeping me from floating away from all that makes me human.

Bootstrap Bill Turner, Tanger, and Maccus…the latter oblivious to the comfort he's given me. But he's also given me pain, the kind you relish willingly. My first few months on the _Dutchman _were…_very _hard…

I often found it difficult to believe that what had happened to me was reality. Though my wits were wide awake, being around these terrifying people, developing an abnormal attraction to one of them…it was like a combination between a nightmare and a dream.

But the first time Maccus bothered to look at me or talk to me, however briefly, well…I lived for those moments. Besides the fact that I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell with him, I was also loosing my humanity. _Very _slowly. But he _did _talk to me…and we didkiss (I still shiver at the thought.)

Maybe there _is_ a chance.

X X X X X X

The captain materialized out of the wall opposite Maccus and took a seat. It seemed whatever kind of idea or proposition Maccus had in mind would have to wait until their game was over. I stood up and left, feeling a little hurt. Maccus said he was going to speak with Davy Jones about something, but he didn't tell me _what_. I expected the mystery to be revealed, but…all they were doing was playing a silly dice game, so I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

Then another thought occurred to me.

Maybe it was all a joke…Maccus claiming there was a way for us to interact freely, out in the open without fear of ridicule and punishment. The thought alone seemed too good to be true…_Surely _it must have been a cruel joke on Maccus's part. The possibility hit me like a sledgehammer, and the more I thought about it, the more idiotic I felt. It _did_ make a certain amount of sense. Maccus was, after all, a pirate. It would only be in his character to dish out lies and deceit, and from what I've learned about pirates since boarding this fine vessel, they enjoy a good, cruel joke. Heck, for all I knew, they might all be sharing a good laugh at my expense right _now_.

Maccus was clearly aware of my attraction to him now, and the first thing that probably came to mind was to take advantage of that fact and humiliate me.

God, I hope he wouldn't!

Bad enough I was sent to the brig in front of half the crew, but if they found out I had a pathetic school-girl's infatuation with…Maccus…how _dare_ he, God, I _hated_ him!

'Maybe that's not what he intended. You're jumping to conclusions; there could still be a chance.'

There it was. It was that voice in my head that, in the past, I usually chose not to listen to. While I would have loved to heed the advice this time, just this once, logic told me it was foolish.

"Flattering, isn't it?"

The voice came from behind me. Koleniko. I didn't want t say his name, but acknowledged his presence with a slight nod.

"What is?" I asked, sliding my hands into my pockets.

"There's someone on this cursed ship willing to make a sacrifice for you. That's more than can be said for any of us…'course, you're the only female on this ship. _Why_ the captain allowed a female on his ship is beyond me."

I chose not to respond to that, but pressed, "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

He stared at me, and I saw a glint in his eyes, that dangerously playful sort of glint a cat gets in its eyes when it plays with a mouse.

"Don't tell me you're unaware that Maccus is playing the captain for _you_."

I drew in a sharp breath. "He's…playing the captain for _me_?" I repeated stupidly.

"In a game of Liar's Dice," he drawled, tossed an invisible pair of dice and peeked under an invisible cup as if he were on stage.

…So Maccus wasn't lying…

The chance to associate with me…_that's _what he was playing for, not to make _fun _of me. I was shocked. In all my life no one, _no one_, has ever fought for me, tried winning for me. I had no idea how to respond to this realization, but I was…like Koleniko said…truly flattered! Smitten! Surprised!

I didn't notice Koleniko's eyes still on me until my eyes strayed toward him, his arms folded and gaze stern. I've always felt uncomfortable under a person's stare (another sign of weakness, perhaps.) It always gave me the impression of being judged or analyzed, like I was an insect to be studied or something.

But when it came to the members of the _Flying Dutchman_, sometimes I just couldn't help but stare back.

And that's why I stared at Koleniko now. He…and the rest of the crew were so…_unnatural_, almost _intriguing_. I'm serious; one could spend hours observing these guys and still not understand the magnitude that their transformation has had on them.

"You're looking for something that can't be found," he said as I stared absently at the red barbs on his face. They moved in sequence with his breathing, reminding me of the way a cat's stomach moves when its sleeping.

Again, I didn't respond, knowing too well what he meant.

"Good things don't last in this world. They certainly won't be found _here_."

I so desperately wanted to tell him how wrong he was, so wanted to argue back telling him that _friends _were a good thing and that I found that on this ship, that playing games was a good thing and, to me, _Maccus _was a good thing…but I kept my mouth shut, as usual. Whether it was out of fear or not, I didn't know, but I _did _know that nothing I could say would have had any effect on Koleniko. A few words on my part wouldn't reverse years of the grim, solid beliefs he held in his heart.

I felt a little sorry for him, but not enough to douse my discomfort.

"Do you know if Maccus loses, the captain will do what he wishes with the both of you," his hand came up to caress the side of my face, but I didn't flinch. I could feel no malice behind the stroke. Living aboard the _Flying Dutchman_, I was not as weak as I once was. In a way, I _was _one of them. Koleniko ought to know this, and how _dare_ he treat me as if I were anything less.

"He's made a dangerous proposition," I said.

"Consider yourself lucky," he stroked my hair, apparently un-phased by the seaweed, barnacles, and starfish that managed to entangle themselves there. Any other man would be repulsed just _looking _at me, but Koleniko regarded me as though I were some exotic creature, which I most _certainly _wasn't, even in my past life; I was as ordinary as hardtack. But the way Koleniko perceived me was frightening…Now that I think about it, if Maccus ever looked at me the way Koleniko does, I may very well have been afraid of _him _too. Attention was something I didn't respond well too.

He withdrew his hand just as I moved mine up to shield. His face hardened a bit.

"The world sees people like you and me as monsters," he said, "Don't be thinking for one second that you'll get the chance to retain your old life back. You know what they say about this ship?" he waited, "'Once you swear an oath to the _Dutchman_, there's no going back.' If I were you, I'd be grateful for any scrap of attention that was given to me." He turned away from me and focused his gaze toward the deck.

His words might have fallen on deaf ears for all the effect they had. Sure Koleniko says he'd be grateful, but he hasn't been in my shoes. Surely it's harder for a woman, a _female_, to adjust to life aboard a pirate ship…I hate to admit it, but men are naturally stronger than most women (physically, that is.) I have heard stories of notorious pirate women who have committed deeds more terrible than any man, but they were few and far between.

A small flurry of voices arose on deck.

"The game has ended," Koleniko exclaimed and took off to see the outcome, I along with him, my heart beating and limbs trembling.

If the captain won, then, as Koleniko warned, he would punish Maccus (and me) in whatever way he saw fit. This was of course a gross understatement.

But when Koleniko and I arrived, Maccus stood up with a grin on his face and the other pirates commented one another on his stroke of luck.

Maccus had won.

I was too stunned to react at first, but unspoken protocol prompted me to say something.

"Maccus?"

He looked at me, and his smile widened. What I found interesting is that Maccus never smiled with true sincerity or kindness; it was more like a smirk, really, but no matter what he ever smiled about, a trace of cruelty always lingered below the surface. Maybe it was the sharp teeth…or his eyes.

What was I doing falling for someone like this?

I returned the smile, albeit a bit uneasily.

"The task is done," he said and placed a strong hand on my shoulder. I fought to control the pace of my breathing, he was so close.

"It's done," I repeated, "…Then you and I…?"

The cruel grin never faded. He briefly cupped the side of my face…not hard…yet not gentle enough, and he left.

"Feelin' a bit lonely, are ye Maccus?" One pirate teased.

Maccus looked at him. "And why not? I can't turn to _you _for company." This earned several sniggers from the crewmen.

Me eyes stayed on Maccus's back until he disappeared below deck. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Well, what do you think of that?" Clanker's voice boomed; I faced him. "Ye got yerself a buddy! And Maccus, to think!"

"I…I can't say I'm not flattered," I ventured, not sure how I ought to react in front of everyone else. My head turned from one pirate to another, surveying their reactions to what had just happened.

I spotted Palifico, who didn't toss me a second glance and instead trundled off with a group of others. Launch narrowed his dark eyes, but other than that, I couldn't pinpoint the mood behind his face. I wondered if they felt somewhat resentful, for Maccus and I had just won safe passage across deadly waters, metaphorically speaking…that is, we no longer had to be alone.

Jimmylegs. Greenbeard. Quittance. Ogilvey. Crazy Wheelback…

They were as alone as ever.

X X X X X X

I had trouble sleeping that night and awoke early the next morning. Swinging out of my makeshift hammock, I went above deck and my senses came alive with the smell of the salty sea. It was a cloudy day, and a few pirates were already up and making themselves useful; I figured I ought to do the same lest on of them berate me for being a slacker, so I grabbed a mop and began wiping away at a rather noticeable puddle of sludge (what it was, I dared not guess, but it was probably the remains of a Portuguese Man-o-War.)

Before long the others began to appear, and my eyes began searching for Maccus. I couldn't stop thinking about the sacrifice he was willing to make, the bet with Davy Jones, and how I felt when I realized what he was putting at stake by doing so.

Could it be that he really _was _lonely? It was hard to imagine for someone like him. Was he that desperate for a little companionship, for a listening ear he knew he could rely on?

Whatever the case, I was moved by his decision. Maybe I shouldn't have been, I mean I was, after all, the only person on this ship he could speak to without being ridiculed or judged. Well…I could imagine Tanger providing a listening ear too, only because he wouldn't have the heart to insult someone willing to confide in him (of course for all I knew, that may very well change in the near future, for him _and _for myself.) But I looked foreword to the time when I would be able to speak to Maccus.

X X X X X X

It was a quiet evening on the surface. There were no chores to be done, so most of the pirates gathered around for a little game. No Liar's Dice tonight; instead, they decided to play some sort of drinking game I knew close-to-nothing about. Those participating in the game were Hadras, Clanker, Jimmylegs, Manray, and Launch. Nearby, Palifico was standing with his hands resting on the helm, not steering, merely relaxing and staring out at the horizon where the ocean met the sky. He looked pensive, and I couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind, to stay away from the others and not participate in any games. Kind of reminded me of me.

Penrod was mopping the deck, staying out of everyone's way. Whether it was due to orders or for the lack of anything better to do, I didn't know.

Myself, I was leaning against the railing, one hand grasping a length of rope. I didn't feel like doing much of anything, only I _really _wished I could see Maccus.

As luck had it, he appeared right behind me. I knew it was him because of the sound of his stride. It didn't sound any different than anyone else's, really, but…I knew. Not to mention the sound of his voice.

"Mae," he said, and I felt my throat constrict. I turned and looked up into his face, drinking in the details.

His hand rose to his hip and withdrew his ax. I grew a wary, my face showing sudden surprise and confusion.

"Maccus…?"

He raised his arm and threw the ax straight over my head with such speed that I barely had time to yelp. Looking, I saw the weapon embedded into the midsection of a Portuguese Man-o-War, slime and sludge dripping out of the creature like puss from an open wound. The trail of goo led all the way up to the sails; apparently, the thing had caught itself up there when we surfaced. I felt sorry for the creature.

Maccus removed his ax, not bothering to wipe off the fluidic debris.

"Dangerous buggers, they are," he said, eyeing the Man-o-War.

I took a step closer. "I can't stand it when they do that, attaching themselves up there and then dropping down on us."

He kicked at it. Had I not known better, I would have expected the creature to sting him, but dozens of Portuguese Man-o-Wars has met their demise at the hands of these pirates in the past. They weren't the only creatures fated to such deaths, either.

"Come on," Maccus motioned for me to follow him, which I did without question. Although curious as ever, I didn't care where he was leading me, so long as _he _was the one leading.

We stopped by one of the rescue boats (ironically named) and Maccus worked on lowering it. I helped and tried my hardest not to ask him what we were doing it for.

When the moss-covered boat splashed into the water, Maccus fixed me with his good eye, so blue. He held his hand out to me, and I took it, eager to feel that rough, yet sleek skin again. Together, we made out way over the side of the ship and down to the little boat, the noise of the water lapping against its side seeming louder than usual.

Maccus situated himself on one end, I on the other, and he began rowing away from the enormous ship. It was actually pleasurable, what with the quiet air and the sun sinking lower and lower into the sky…I felt like I was waking up from a long dream. The only times I ever got to leave the _Dutchman _was when I was occasionally selected to help raid unfortunate ships (a job I despised with all my heart but was obliged to obey.)

Being off of that ship without boarding another was a nice change for once. Maccus kept his attention on the water. He kept looking from side to side; I couldn't imagine what he might be looking for.

Other than that, I enjoyed the fresh air and Maccus's company, even if I was still slightly intimidated by him. Like I said, I have a rather active imagination and for some unknown reason, it _did _occur to me that Maccus could kill me anytime he wished it; the possibility of dying by his hands did not slip my mind…I wasn't afraid though. If he had wanted to kill me, he wouldn't have rowed out to sea to do it; he'd just stick his ax in me on the ship, right then and there, in front of everybody. Then I would be tossed overboard and fed to the sharks, my bones sinking all the way to the bottom of the ocean, nothing but another memory lost at sea…

"Here we are," he murmured, resting the oars in their place and leaning over to peer into the water.

I couldn't help but find every movement he made fascinating. The way his one good eye moved here and there, his face sterner than usual with concentration…it made me want to know him, personally, as a close friend or something.

'_Who are you when you're not throwing your ax and following orders?'_

"Look," he said, pointing at something in the water I couldn't see.

I glanced at him, then back at the murky water, trying to see what he was seeing.

And the I saw it…barely a shadow, something man-sized and graceful swimming through the water.

"Sharks," I said.

"Aye," he whispered and leaned over the edge of the boat. I watched in silent amazement as he cupped his hand in the water and brought the salty liquid drizzling back down.

The shark, a great white it seemed, rose to the surface so that only its dorsal fin and the top of its back were visible. To my surprise, Maccus reached out and stroked the creature.

I looked at him, and he gave me that cruel smile. I felt I ought to have said something.

"Can all of you do that?"

"Yes," he said, "Most of all with the creatures we're turning into."

I looked at the fins growing on my arms, much more prominent than they were a year ago. I hadn't seen myself in a mirror for years and was therefore unable to tell what I looked like. For years I had neglected asking Tanger about my appearance, I had always been too afraid to hear his response, but now…I felt it was as good a time as any to find out the truth.

I looked directly at Maccus. "What kind of creature do I look like?"

Returning my look, after waiting a moment or two, he said curtly, "Hawkfish."

"Hawkfish…" I blinked, having no idea what a hawkfish looked like.

He nodded. "A coral hawkfish."

I felt my face which, to my relied, still felt human enough, but patches of red began, as of late, appearing on my skin, and strange slimy spines were protruding in various places on my skin. My hair was as coarse as ever, and I even discovered scales growing on my neck and near my knees.

I nodded as well and said no more. Maccus returned his gaze to the water where the shark was still circling below.

…I thought about the kiss we shared…

Every time I recalled the feel of his skin against mine, the smell of the sea on him, even the sharpness of his teeth…I felt as if I were in complete rapture. Hard to believe with my current living state, and it was a terribly hard secret to keep.

I wanted to know Maccus _so _bad…I wanted him to trust me, to see me as a friend. He was such a mystery; probably part of what had me attracted to him in the first place, and he knew now…he knew how hopelessly I was drawn to him, and still I have yet to see any evidence that he feels the same about me.

He risked his very life and position on this ship for the chance for us to mingle, sure, but that didn't prove much. There was the kiss too…but for all I knew, that could have just been the thrill of the moment, a fraction of time he chose to live in the past once more.

He was still silent, and I found it hard not to stare at him.

Without any reluctance, I took his hand and held it in mine, remembering the feel of his skin.


End file.
